


The Cat Who Danced on Starlight

by NocturnalMelody



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Cats - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Drama, M/M, tuggoffelees - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23918410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NocturnalMelody/pseuds/NocturnalMelody
Summary: The Rum Tum Tugger gets more than he bargained for when he purchases a mysterious music box from two con artists.
Relationships: Demeter/Munkustrap (Cats), Jennyanydots/Bustopher Jones, Mr. Mistoffelees & Rum Tum Tugger (Cats), Mr. Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger, Plato/Victoria (Cats)
Comments: 125
Kudos: 193





	1. Chapter 1

His brother had warned him not to go to that shop. 

He said it was full of overpriced junk, owned by two notorious con artists. Con artists that took pride in swindling unsuspecting cats out of their hard-earned cash.

His brother had given him many good reasons not to give that shop the time of day. 

....Which was precisely why he was going there right now.

He didn’t intend to buy anything, of course. But being a curious cat of his nature, he couldn’t resist taking a peek.

The hanging bell atop the door rang, signaling a customer. No sooner had he taken a step inside, the Rum Tum Tugger found himself bombarded by two identical striped tabbies.

“Welcome to MungoTeazer’s Treasure Trove!” Said the taller of the two. “Where one cat’s junk...”

“...Is another cat’s treasure!” The shorter female finished with a toothy grin. “How can we help you today?”

Tugger shifted his weight from one paw to the other, examining his own immaculately trimmed claws. “Just seeing what you have to offer.”

As the twins eagerly stood aside to let him pass, Tugger took a look around. 

It was in a state of organized chaos - trinkets of different shapes and sizes crowded together on rows of wooden shelves.  
There were miniature toy cars, their colorful paint chipped. Musical instruments - including dented brass horns in desperate need of a polishing, and guitars that were missing a few strings. Silverware, plates. Porcelain figurines.

Tugger wandered over to a glass display case, taking a glance at the rusty sword locked inside.

“Ah!” Exclaimed Mungojerrie from behind him, Tugger nearly jumping clear out of his skin. “You, my friend, have impeccable taste! That is no ordinary sword!”

“Nope!” Added Rumpleteazer, who had suddenly appeared on his left. “That once belonged to the legendary Growltiger himself! You won’t find something as rare as this anywhere else!”

Tugger smoothed out his mane, miffed at being startled so easily. “Hey, you gotta give me a little space here! If I’m thinking of buying, I’ll let you know.”

The two tabbies visibly deflated.

“Of course!”  
“Just let us know if anything sparks your interest!”

They hurried back to the front of the store.

Tugger yawned.

He wouldn’t admit it of course, but Munkustrap was right. Nothing here but a bunch of overpriced junk. Like he was supposed to believe that was Growltiger’s ACTUAL sword. And that price tag? Who were they kidding?

He was just about to make his exit when something shiny caught his eye.

A lone music box sat amongst some carved boxes. “Hm.” He picked it up for a closer look, sneezing when he stirred up a cloud of dust with it.

It was a round, quaint little music box, with beautifully detailed engravings that resembled a starry night sky. Well, he couldn’t deny his love for shiny objects.

“It's kinda cute.” He noticed the tiny crank on the side, so he carefully grasped it in his paw, winding it up.

The music box’s lid opened, revealing a miniature stage as it played an upbeat tinkling melody.   
In the center, a magician slowly spun in place, performing an endless pirouette.

Tugger tilted his head. The tiny cat magician was all dolled up in a sparkly tuxedo, a secret smile on his delicately painted face.

Now this kind of thing typically wasn’t his style. But it managed to draw him in nonetheless. 

As he checked underneath the trinket for a price tag, a voice barely above a whisper caught his attention. 

_'...Hello...? Can you hear me...?'_

"Huh?" Tugger whirled around. "Who said that?" He didn't see anyone else in the store. 

_'...In here...the music box...'_

He immediately dropped the box, and it collided with the wooden floor with an audible 'THUNK". 

"Oi, watch the merchandise!" Mungojerrie called from the front. 

"Yeah, you break it, you bought it!" Rumpletezer added. 

Ignoring them, Tugger shakily reached down and picked up the music box, holding it carefully with both paws. "Did...Did you actually talk...?!" 

_'...Ouch...did you have to drop me like that...? Yes, I'm talking to you...you have to help me...'_

"How in the name of the Everlasting Cat are you talking?" Tugger asked, turning it over in his grasp, holding it to his ear. 

_'I'll explain later...just get me out of here...buy me, do whatever you have to do...please...?'_

Any other cat would be deterred by the freaky talking music box, but not him. Now he knew he had to have it. "Alright, I'll take you with me." 

_'...Oh, what a relief...finally...the first cat to hear my voice in years...!'_

So clearly, no one else knew about this little box's gift of speech, even the store owners. He was just gonna keep that tiny little detail to himself. 

Tugger sashayed back to the front of the store, placing the music box down in front of them. "So." He leaned against the counter. "How much for this dusty old thing?" 

The tabbies exchanged glances. They then huddled together, whispering to eachother with a cautious glance at Tugger every now and then. 

Finally, they both straightened up (with what they probably thought was an air of professionalism). 

Rumpleteazer cleared her throat. "For that rare, one-of-a-kind antique? ...Eighty jellicoins. "

Tugger gaped. "Eighty?!" 

"You heard her," Mungojerrie told him, crossing his arms. "Eighty." 

With an exaggerated sigh, Tugger pulled away from the counter, leaving the music box where he left it. "I suppose I'll just have to take my business elsewhere." He began walking back to the exit. Slowly. 

"N-Now wait just a minute!" 

Tugger's ears twitched, and he paused with one paw on the door handle. "Yeeess?" 

"You have to understand, we're running a business here," Rumpleteazer informed him. "These items are hard to find, and our prices are more than reasonable!" 

"You're right. I get it," Tugger replied.

Time to lay on the charm. 

"You can't just let any ol' tom walk in here and cheat you out of a quality item," He said, approaching the counter once more. "I see you're not only beautiful, but business-savvy as well." 

Mungojerrie narrowed his eyes. "Nice try, buddy. But flirting with my sister won't get you a discount. No deal!" 

Tugger placed his paw over his chest, wounded. "That's rude to assume! And I believe the pretty lady can speak for herself." 

Rumpleteazer turned to her brother. "He's right, I can speak for myself." She leaned in close to Tugger. "Alright, smooth-talker. I'll let it go for...seventy jellicoins." 

Tugger met her gaze unflinchingly. "...Sixty." 

"No way. I'm already pushing it at seventy!" 

"Fair enough. How about we meet halfway? Sixty-five jellicoins." Tugger smirked. 

"...Done." 

Flabbergasted, her brother looked from one to the other as the Maine Coone poured the shiny coins into her waiting paw. 

Tugger couldn't prevent a cheeky grin from coming to his face as Mungojerrie defeatedly wrapped the music box in plain brown paper. 

"Can we get you anything else today...?"

"No, thank you. It was a pleasure. Maybe I'll be back." He winked at Rumpletezer, making his way to the exit. 

He was satisfied to hear her giggle on the way out. 

_'...I can't believe I had to listen to that,'_ The quiet voice groaned.

"What? No cat can resist all of this," Tugger said, gesturing to the rest of himself. "And that's just a fact of life." 

_'...Of all cats...how did I end up stuck with this one...?'_

"Just a particularly good stroke of luck?" 

And with that, the Rum Tum Tugger made his way home to his flat, with the mysterious music box safely tucked away in his bag. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Munkustrap’s dinner party doesn’t exactly go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for such sweet comments! I never thought I'd continue this, but here's the next chapter of my fanfic!

Tugger unlocked the door to his flat, making sure to step over the (intentionally placed) music sheets scattered across the floor.

He didn't like it when things were too tidy and neat. It made it difficult to think. A little messiness kept life interesting, as opposed to looking at the same bare floors and walls every day.

A simple, full body-mirror hung against the wall. He spent every morning in front of it, making sure his luscious and silky mane was groomed to perfection before greeting the day.

His baby, a fire-engine red electric guitar, sat in the corner, lovingly nestled against its amplifier. How he longed for a day to just crank the volume to the maximum, and play without restraint!

But, unfortunately, his killjoy neighbors tended to complain about the "noise".

He could scarcely believe what he was hearing when described it like THAT. Noise?! More like having one's ears blessed with the gift of his music!

...This was why he really needed to get himself a house.

"So, Magical Musical Kitten," The Rum Tum Tugger said, taking out the fancy little trinket, lounging on the couch to examine it further. "Got a name? What's your story?"

' _It's Mistoffelees,'_ The voice replied. ' _And...I actually don't remember how I got stuck in this thing.'_

"Then you were actually a living, breathing cat once?" Tugger grinned. He'd never come across anything this exciting before.

 _'Not just a cat. A magician,'_ The voice boasted.

"Even more interesting! Well, Misto... "

" _Misto_ "...?'

"...we ought to figure out how to get you out of here, hm?" Tugger turned it around again in his grasp, searching for any clues. "So you can't just magic yourself out, huh?"

'... _No_ ,' Misto admitted, humbled. ' _I've tried, many times. And you're the first one to even be able to hear my voice.'_

Tugger wound the music box up again, watching the magician called Mistoffelees spin in his perfect pirouette, the catchy little tune beginning to play. "What if we just..."  
He carefully grasped the tiny figure between his claws, giving it an experimental tug.

' _Ow ow - STOP!'_

The Maine Coon instantly released him with a sheepish smile. "Sorry." He placed the box back down on the coffee table, allowing Misto descend inside once more.

 _'Just don't do that again_ ,' Misto told him. ' _Ugh...there has to be another...less brutal way. But at least I'm out of that_ _store. I have you to thank for that...uh...'_

"The Rum Tum Tugger!" Tugger introduced himself with an extravagant gesture, baffled when Mistoffelees began to giggle uncontrollably.

_'No, really. What is it...?'_

"What is what?" Tugger asked, tilting his head in confusion, the magician's laughter trailing off into an awkward cough.

 _'N-Nothing. Anyway, thank you...er...Tugger. You didn't have to buy me. Anyone else would have been frightened off by hearing a disembodied voice talking to them. I've...been alone for so long_.'

Tugger frowned when he thought he heard his voice crack.

"Hey...you got any family? Anyone that can give me some advice for getting you out of this?" Tugger asked, feeling sorry for this lonely, imprisoned cat.

 _'I don't remember_ ,' The voice said softly. _'I don't remember anything else besides my name and my magic. Being in here...I suppose it made me start to forget things. If you hadn't come_ _along...maybe I would have forgotten I was once alive.'_

Tugger's fur stood on end. How horrible. There had to be something he could do to help this cat.  
So he sat there in silence, crossing his arms over his fluffy chest, ruminating.

"You know what?" He said suddenly, an idea springing to mind.

' _What_?'

"My dad is kind of magical in his own way."

His father might not be a magician, but he possessed wisdom gained from years upon years of experience. "I bet if anyone knows what to do in this kind of situation, he would!"

 _'You really think so?'_ Misto's voice became hopeful. _'Let's go see him!'_

Tugger grinned, "Alright! We'll head to his place, and..." He trailed off, amber eyes going wide in horror. "Shit."

His father wasn't going to be home.

Because he was at Munkustrap's dinner party.

The dinner party that started an hour and a half ago.

The one that he promised over and over again to be on time to.

...Maybe he could avoid being skinned alive if he got there fast.

He shoved the music box back into the bag, dashing outside, but not before grabbing the keys to his other baby.

"Ever ride on a motorcycle before, Misto?" He asked with a smirk, hopping on and revving her up.

' _No. Is this the first and last time I ever will?'_  
He never got an answer - Tugger already speeding out of the driveway and down the street to Munkustrap's place.

***

It was a perfect evening for a dinner party.

Mild, not too windy or too cold. The sun had already began its retreat below the horizon, bidding the Earth farewell while it prepared to welcome a starlit night. And with that farewell, left its brilliance painted across the sky's canvas in strokes of orange and pink.

It was so peaceful that Munkustrap felt his irritation at his little brother transition into mild annoyance. "Almost two hours," He grumbled.

"I have no idea how you still manage to be surprised."

His mate, Demeter, cast him an amused smile. "He's always late to everything."

"Actually, I'm just as surprised as he is," Alonzo said offhandedly, helping himself to more shrimp cocktail. "Whenever there's food, he's the first one here."

They had surrounded the rustic wooden table with chairs to accommodate each cat, and Jellylorum eagerly helped with the decorations. The tiny lights strung above their heads were her handiwork, adding to the atmosphere.

Skimbleshanks, who always had an eye for detail, was more than happy to assist Demeter and Munkustrap with setting the table (with the silverware carefully arranged at each station "according to their size AND intended use", Skimble had insisted. Which was a bit of overkill for even Munkustrap, but he was grateful nonetheless).

It wasn't much longer before a motorcycle speeding down the street announced a certain cat's arrival.

The kittens, who had full bellies and were now romping in the grass, stopped to listen. Their ears perked, their tails twitched.

"Tugger's here!"

"He's here!"

"D'you think he'll let us drive his motorbike?"

Tugger had only made it halfway across the lawn before he was tackled by the overeager kittens, laughing as he fell backward into the grass.

"Someone, anyone! Help! I'm being attacked!" He called. Munkustrap couldn't help but smile in spite of himself.

Ever since they were kittens themselves, the two of them had been polar opposites.

Rum Tum Tugger thrived on chaos and unpredictability. While Munkustrap preferred routine and careful planning.

Tugger preferred to go with the flow, to let life's current carry him where it will. Munkustrap wasn't about to let life carry him off to who-knows-where, and always planned to have both paws firmly placed on the steering wheel.

Sometimes, he envied his little brother. Like their father, nothing ever seemed to faze him.

But Demeter could see right through that.

 _“You've always known what you wanted out of life,”_ She had said. _"Tugger, on the other hand, is never satisfied. He never knows what he wants.”_

Bombalurina took her place at Demeter's other side, sipping at her drink. "That one always has to make a spectacle, doesn't he?" She chuckled. It was no secret to the rest of the cats that she and Tugger shared a past.

While both had recently decided to keep things casual, Demeter confided in Munkustrap that her best friend secretly longed for something deeper and more intimate than "casual".

After Tugger 'freed' himself from the relentless kitten attack, Old Deuteronomy rose from his chair, gripping his youngest child in a bear-hug. "It's wonderful to see you, my son!"

"You too, Dad." Tugger hugged him tight, practically lost in his father's thick coat of shaggy fur. But once Tugger made eye contact with Munkustrap, his smile became anxious.

"Munku, I know I'm way beyond fashionably late," Tugger began with uncharacteristic seriousness, "But there's something I really need to show Dad." He reached into the bag that was slung over his shoulder, feeling around for something. "Gimme a sec...oh...oh no. Where is he?!"

He frantically opened the bag and looked inside...

...Finding it empty. "Misto?!"

Whatever he lost, he seemed completely panicked over it. Munkustrap leaned to the side to look behind Tugger, raising his eyebrows.  
"Looks like the kittens are playing with something. Is that what you're looking for?"

Tugger whirled around with a gasp, running back over to the kittens. But instead of handing it over to him, they scattered, bursting into giggles. Whenever he got close, they darted around him or escaped right through his legs, passing the round object from one to the other.

As amusing as it was to watch this game of Keep Away, Munkustrap couldn't let this continue. Whatever that object was, it meant a lot to Tugger to cause him to react in a way so unlike himself.

The youngest, Jemima, bumped headlong into Munkustrap, dropping her prize onto the grass. "Oops..." She winced, expecting a scolding.

But Munkustrap only smiled, getting down to her level to take a closer look.

"That's a beautiful box," He commented, noticing that what Tugger had desperately been trying to retrieve was some kind of antique.

Relieved that she wasn't in trouble, Jemima picked it up, her eyes sparkling in delight. "It plays music too! Want to see?"

"Yes! But why don't we show Grandpa Dee first? He'll want to see it too," Munkustrap told her, straightening up again, turning to the rest of the disappointed kittens.

"I guess no one wants dessert," Munkustrap sighed dramatically, making his way back to the table. "I'll just have to eat it. Alllll by myself."

"No you won't!" The kittens tried to call his bluff.

"Oh, yes, I will," Munkustrap continued. "Chocolate cake is my favorite. But since you're all too busy playing...!"

Tugger watched in amazement, his older brother having ended the game within minutes. All the kittens now made a beeline for the table, except for Jemima.

She tugged lightly on Old Deuteronomy's coat, looking up at him with big brown eyes. "Look! Isn't it pretty...?"

By now, even the adult cats were watching with interest as Old Deuteronomy took the box into his large paws.

To the astonishment of his sons and the rest of those watching, he spoke gently to it.

"...I see...yes, yes...that IS quite the conundrum," The old cat murmured. "...oh, I'm sure you're more than capable of it! I have complete faith in you. You must have faith in yourself as well."

He held the box above his head.

"...Now!"

A blinding rainbow of sparks exploded from the music box as it lifted into the air on its own, the resulting shockwave knocking food from the table, plates and silverware flying in every direction.

The cats shrieked in terror, some clinging to the nearby trees or jumping atop the table, others shielding the kittens, even fewer rooted to the spot, unable to look away from the sight.

A single sphere of golden light now hovered above them. It morphed before their very eyes, becoming distinctly cat-shaped, now floating to the ground in a graceful fouetté turn.

The light enveloping the figure faded.

And in its place stood a slender black cat, not quite a kitten, not quite an adult. He sported a black bow tie, the white fluff on his chest forming a proper tuxedo.

Silver eyes fluttered open, and he looked down at his paws in disbelief. "I'm...I'm free?" He whispered.

Unable to contain his elation, he jumped up and down, his laughter ringing through the air, pure and unrestrained -

"I'm free!"

___

Miles and miles away, hidden in the deepest part of the forest, stood a dilapidated house. Time and nature had reclaimed it for its own. Vines snaked their way through the broken door and into the shattered windows.

...But there was damage inside this house that time did not inflict. Jagged scratches across the floor, holes gouged in the wall that were made by a powerful, unnatural force.

And in the center of it all, stood a statue of a cat.

It was tall, gangly, with a wild mane of hair and a mouth frozen open in a silent snarl. A spider had made its web within the gaping maw, behind the fangs.

Magic awakened this night, for the first time in years. And something stirred.

Stone crumbled and began to give way, revealing mangy fur of crimson red.

A arm freed itself, then the other.

As the rest of its stony prison collapsed into dust, the feline slumped forward, claws digging into the floor.

A deep growl rumbled in his throat, acid green eyes piercing the darkness. Searching.

"Mistoffeeles..."

Magic awakened this night.

And so had Macavity.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lost magician finds a sliver of hope.

He was free. 

How long had he spent in that cramped little space, listening to the muffled voices around him? Carried from place to place, his desperate cries for help unheeded? 

How many times had his tiny stage ascended to the light, allowing him the briefest glimpse of the outside world...before he slowly sank into darkness once more? 

He'd lost count. 

But that didn't matter. Not anymore. 

He was so overcome with joy that it took him a few minutes to realize that his audience was stunned into silence. 

...Not to mention that his return had brought quite a bit of chaos to whatever gathering had been taking place here.

Tables and chairs were overturned. Food was everywhere - some on the grass, some on the trees, some on the cats. 

Strings of twinkling lights dangled pitifully here and there, a couple of them flickering, others completely burnt out. 

"I'm very sorry about that," Misto told them with an apologetic bow. "Let me help."

Brows furrowed in concentration, he rubbed his paws together, calling his magic forth, feeling it flare to life within his chest. 

He then spread his arms, pinpoints of light dancing around his paws. 

Those same sparks of light surrounded the fallen objects, causing to them levitate.

The cats watched, transfixed, as each object moved on its own to its rightful place. Even the pieces of shattered glass repaired themselves, fitting back together like a puzzle. 

Regrettably, the food was the only thing that couldn't be saved, and every soiled surface (and coat) was still in need of a cleaning. 

One cat's reaction in particular stood out from the rest, the familiar Maine coon's face a combination of excitement and starry-eyed wonder. 

"That...That...!" Tugger held out his arms in a grand gesture to Misto, "...That was something else!" He finished, unable to describe what he just witnessed. 

As the kittens surrounded the tuxedo cat, eager to see more of his magic tricks, the adult cats had managed to compose themselves. 

Tonight had been full of surprises, and they were anxious to know why.

So Misto told them his story, although there wasn't much to tell. He was a magician, trapped in that music box, purchased by Tugger, and was now released. 

"You don't remember anything? Nothing at all?" A silver tabby asked, casting a wary glance in his direction as Misto sat with the kittens in the grass. 

"No, nothing. It's all a blank." Misto smiled at his little audience. He decided to perform one of his easier tricks, pulling a butter-yellow flower out of thin air.

Jemima's eyes sparkled as she took it, earning the jealousy of the other kittens. But they soon brightened once they each had their own flower-gift. 

"What do you think, Dad?" The silver tabby then asked the shaggy old cat, who had been the second to hear his voice besides Tugger. 

The wizened face was deep in thought for a few long moments. "Hm...he bears a striking resemblance to my old golfing buddy, Bustopher Jones!" He said in his deep yet gentle voice. "But there is something else...what is your name, young one?" 

"Mistoffelees."

"Ah! The same name as the traveling magician, the original Conjuring Cat, Mr. Mistoffelees! I had the pleasure of seeing one of his shows in my younger days." The old cat continued, nostalgic. 

"He was quite a character, that magician! He dazzled many with his skills." He chuckled. "Sadly...he vanished without a trace at the peak of his success. But that was almost a century ago." 

Misto's eyes grew wide. "A century?!" 

Tugger rested his paws against his studded belt, ruminating. "That would make him old. Like, dead in the ground old." 

Tugger's father nodded his head gravely. "Precisely." 

Misto took a moment to let that sink in, his fluffy ears flattened against his skull.

A century. A century had passed since he was imprisoned. So whatever family he once had, any friends, were all long dead. 

There was no one left who could help him remember his past, or the cat he used to be. 

...But maybe he could still find some answers.

He looked up. "You said I look like your friend, Bustopher Jones," Misto pointed out. "Maybe we're distant relatives. If there's anyone that can tell me more about myself, it's him, right?" He asked, eager to know more about his past. 

The old cat smiled. "Not a bad idea! He loves when visitors come to his estate. But it's quite a long distance from here." 

"You could take the train!" An orange tabby volunteered with enthusiasm, the bell at his neck tinkling with his eager movement.   
"Allow me to help with the travel plans, Mistofflees. I can book you the quickest route to Bustopher Jones' town, with as little stops possible. That is, unless you decide sightseeing is in your itinerary." 

Misto's despair at his situation receded as the orange tabby described taking a fun trip on a train. That sounded delightful! But...he didn't have any money for a ticket. 

"...I'll take him." 

All eyes shifted to Tugger, who merely shrugged. "Can't have an adorable kitten like you wandering around a big city all by himself. You need a protector." He flashed him a dazzling smile.

Misto met his smouldering gaze, deadpan. 

"I'm no kitten, and am perfectly capable of looking after myself," He said. "If anything, I'd be the one protecting YOU." 

A cat with black and white patches snorted, the silver tabby laughing. 

"It looks like you've met your match, Tugger," He informed the Maine coon, who pouted. 

"H-Hey, the city can be overwhelming if you're not used to it!" Tugger pointed out. "Besides, you'll be needing a place to stay in the meantime. I got space in my flat...if you're uh...okay with that," He added, his gaze now wandering elsewhere. 

Misto was taken aback by his offer.   
Tugger didn't even know him. And yet, he saved him from that antique shop, helped free him, and was now giving him a place to stay. He had nothing to offer him in return except his gratitude. 

"...Alright." 

Tugger's ears perked up. "Really?" 

"Mm-hm. At least, until I can find a place of my own," Misto added, not wanting to come across as a freeloading cat. 

By now, it was too late in the day to catch the next train to the city, and the cat called Skimbleshanks had already declared himself their travel agent. 

So they decided to call it a night, Misto climbing onto the motorcycle behind Tugger. 

"So this is a motorcycle," He said, curious. If he'd ridden on a such a strange vehicle like this in the past, he couldn't recall.

"Yup, and it goes from one to sixty pretty fast, so you'll want to hold onto...uh, y-yeah, like that," Tugger stammered when Misto carefully wrapped his arms around his torso. 

Misto waited a good minute and a half, the motorcycle not moving. "So...are we leaving soon...?" 

"...Huh? Oh, right! Hang on, kitten," He told him, revving up the engine, the two of them speeding down the road once more. 

*** 

Mistoffelees took a look around the flat. 

It seemed cozy enough, but was also a complete mess, and he found himself stepping on the many papers scattered about. 

"Home sweet home!" Tugger said cheerfully, "We didn't exactly get dinner, so I'm starving! You hungry?"

Misto's stomach answered for him, grumbling loudly. Inanimate objects didn't need food, but growing cats definitely did. "A little. Thank you." 

Tugger then proceeded to say something about 'fish sticks' as he made his way into the kitchen. But Misto didn't quite hear him, because he was watching the mesmerizing way the Maine coon's hips swayed when he walked. 

Was he doing that on purpose? Or was it just his natural way of getting around? 

Oh Everlasting. 

"...Misto?" 

"YES?!" He jolted, neon pink starbursts exploding around his head. 

As much as he loved his own magic, moments like these were a nuisance. He quickly waved the pink sparks away in frustration.

Tugger poked his furry head around the corner. "You want cream on the side?"

"Cream sounds lovely. Do you need any help...?" 

"Nope, I'm good! You just make yourself at home!" 

So Misto did, giving in to his curiosity and poking around. 

A photo hung on the wall - a family of three. 

Misto recognized the warm gaze of the kindly old cat in the center.   
On his left, stood a little silver kitten with black stripes, smiling politely for the camera.  
On his right, the slightly blurred image of a Maine coon kitten, giving the camera a toothy grin. 

"You and your brother are nothing alike," Misto commented aloud. 

"Nah, he's gotta lighten up once in a while! He's a good cat though," Tugger replied over the sound of the fish sticks sizzling. 

A flash of red caught Misto's attention, the tuxedo cat examining the unusual looking guitar. After taking a quick glance at the kitchen, he reached down, giving the strings a gentle strum with his claw. 

The instrument made a satisfying twang. 

"Dinner's done!" 

Tugger returned, balancing two steaming plates of fried fish sticks and two mugs of cold, fresh cream. 

They sat together on the couch to eat in front of the television, Misto practicing his best poker face as he forced down the overcooked, greasy fish sticks. 

But the cream was delicious, and he guzzled it down to wash the taste out of his mouth. 

"Hey...Misto?" 

"Hm?" 

"What's it like?" Tugger asked suddenly, turning to face him. "Having magic?" 

"What's it like?" Misto thought for a moment. "Well, I think I've always had it. That's like asking what's it like to breathe." He smiled to himself.

The room dimmed, Misto summoning the light from every bulb in the room to his waiting paws, illuminating them both in a soft glow. 

"Wow," Tugger whispered, reaching a hesitant paw to touch the glowing orb. 

Misto laughed softly and allowed it split apart, each little light retreating home to its individual bulb...the room brightening once more. 

As their yawns became more and more frequent, it was a mutual agreement to turn in for the night. Despite Misto's repeated protests, Tugger insisted on letting him have his bed.

"My couch is just as comfortable," He assured him, bringing out more blankets from the closet. "Lemme know if you need anything else, okay? Goodnight, Misto." 

Misto nodded. "Goodnight. ...Tugger?" 

"Yeah?" Tugger asked, pausing in the doorway. 

Misto reached up to scratch his own ear, a habit he didn't realize he had until now. "Um...thank you. For helping me." 

Tugger smiled. "Don't mention it." He told him, leaving the room shortly after.

Misto settled down beneath the warm, fuzzy blanket, the Jellicle Moon shining through the window at his side.

Apparently, beneath all that bravado was a...surprisingly considerate cat. 

Tomorrow was a new day. And for the first time, he wasn't alone. 

***

He was weak. 

He loathed this feeling of weakness. 

His limbs felt as if they were still encased in that wretched stone, his bones creaking whenever he moved. His throat felt as if it were coated in a thick layer of dust. 

The years had not been kind to Macavity. 

He stopped at the edge of a stream to take a drink, the water bringing much needed relief. 

But it wasn't enough. 

He needed food. 

Fortunately, Macavity was right at home within the blackness of night, with the trees partially shielding the annoying light of the Jellicle Moon. 

His keen ears sensed movement within the brush behind him. 

Crouching low to the ground, the ginger feline stalked his prey, moving ever closer, his paws silent against the lush forest floor. 

A cotton-tailed hare, in the wrong place at the wrong time, pink nose wiggling. 

It was time to test his power. 

Now close enough to make eye contact, Macavity pushed his magic outward. 

**_'Come to me.'_ **

The rabbit froze. 

Once more.

 ** _'Come to me,'_** He voicelessly urged his prey. _**'You're safe here. Come closer.'**_

The hare's eyes went blank. It hopped towards him once. Then twice.

But abruptly, the spell was broken, and the hare bolted for the trees in sudden panic. 

Hissing, Macavity gave chase, leaping forward and pouncing. 

As he feasted upon the dying animal's flesh, red blood mingling with the red of his coat, his thoughts became more focused. 

First, he must recover. 

But once he did...he would find him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tugger, after Misto holds onto him: *GAY PANIC*
> 
> Misto, after nearly being caught staring at that hot piece of ass: *GAY PANIC*
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, guys! I hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tugger finds himself unexpectedly bonding with the mysterious magician. Mistoffelees runs into some trouble in the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter arrived a bit delayed, so to those still reading my fic, THANK YOU SO MUCH! A lot of intense moments are still in store, so I hope you'll stick around!

Skimbleshanks was as good as his word.

Their train ride was meticulously planned by the next day, and the orange tabby had even compiled a list of things to do and see once they arrived in the big city.

'There will be one rest stop in the riverside town of Knollbrook, before the train continues on its destination to the seaside city of St. James Town!' Skimble had explained to a half-listening Tugger. 'That way, you get the best of both worlds. Comforting, scenic countryside, and the lively hustle and bustle of the city!'

Tugger didn't care much for lists, nor did he care much for trains. They were so cramped and contained. A free-spirit like himself preferred traveling by motorcycle, or even on foot, going where he pleased, wherever the wind decided to take him.

But he'd taken one look at the way Misto's eyes lit up at the word 'train', and that was that.

Both Demeter and Bombalurina were already waiting at the train station platform, the two queens seated at the bench, chatting with one another.

As his mysterious, magical companion excitedly checked out the train station, Tugger strutted over to them.

"Here to see us off, are you, Bomba?" He asked with a grin, drawing her close when she stood up. "I know you'll miss me sooooo much...but I don't want to see any tears."

Bombalurina rolled her eyes, toying with his mane with her silky paws. "Oh, there would have been plenty of tears. Tears of JOY. But Demeter and I aren't here to see you off."

"Huh?" Tugger blinked.

"Skimble's travel plans sounded tempting. I convinced Demeter that we both needed a girl's day out."

Demeter smiled, still a little uncertain. She was rarely away from her family. "I hope Munkustrap and Jemima will be alright without me."

"They'll be fine," Bomba assured her. "You never take any time for yourself to just relax."

"That's because I can never relax," Demeter muttered.

"I did always say you and my brother were perfect for eachother," Tugger pointed out.

Demeter smiled wryly at that, before giggling at something behind Tugger. "Your new friend seems to be entertaining himself just fine over there."

Tugger turned, seeing that Misto had perched himself atop the roofing above the platform. The tuxedo cat was peeking over the edge, tail twitching.

Directly below him, a Pollicle with drooping jowls and spectacles was attempting to read a book.  
...But every once in a while, the pages would turn on their own.

The Pollicle jumped, clearly thinking it might have been the wind. He quickly turned the pages back, trying to find his spot.

But as soon as he did, the pages flipped once more. The Pollicle let out a frustrated snort, looking around in confusion, sniffing.

Releasing Bombalurina, Tugger laughed. "He's really something, isn't he?"

Before she could reply, Skimble's voice carried across the station,

"ALL ABOARD! ALL ABOARD!"

Misto ran across the roofing and jumped down, landing silently on his feet.  
"That's our train! Hurry!"

The four cats boarded the train and took their seats. The wheels began to turn, the train chugging itself up to speed, announcing its departure with a piercing whistle.

And they were off.

Tugger took his seat next to Misto, who was practically glued to the window, watching the trees zip by. "You really like trains, huh?"

"You don't?" Misto asked, still gazing out the window.

"Eh, they're alright," Tugger said, reclining back against the seat and crossing his legs.  
"A little too contained for my liking. Why be on the inside looking out, stuck inside a little compartment, when you could have all the freedom you want by traveling just a little bit slower...?"

He inwardly praised himself at how deep he sounded just now, hoping that he drew the magician's attention away from the view.

Misto looked thoughtful. "...That says a lot about you."

Tugger flashed him another dazzling smile. "Oh really? And what's that?"

"That you have an extremely short attention span."

Oof.

Thankfully, the ridiculously long train ride came to its first stop at Knollbrook.

And Tugger had to admit...it was beautiful.

The way the sun sparkled on the river, the cute little stone buildings. The wildflowers growing freely, their colors speckled across vibrant green grass.

Demeter's ears and tail finally relaxed as she paused to take it all in. "Look at this place. It's perfect," She said softly, taking her best friend's arm. "Skimble said there was a general store here, let's go see it." She wanted to bring back a gift for her family.

Bomba turned to the other two. "Will you boys behave if we leave you alone?" She asked.

"I'll keep an eye on him, don't worry," Misto told her. Tugger tilted his head, unable to tell if he was being serious or not.

"Good. Then we'll meet up with you later." Bombalurina added with a wink in Tugger's direction, leaving with Demeter.

Tugger watched her leave, before he stretched his arms up over his head, letting out a long, exaggerated yawn. "It's about time for a nap, wouldn't you agree?"

Misto raised his eyebrows. "You want to nap? You should've done that on the train ride."

"Wasn't tired then. And there wasn't enough sun to bask in."

Misto rolled his silver eyes. "A nap can wait."

To Tugger's immense shock (and delight), Misto actually grabbed his paw, pulling him along towards the bridge.

But they didn't hold paws for long, walking alongside each other.

"Do you know anything about Bustopher?" Misto asked Tugger suddenly.

"Not particularly." He went down the list on each of his own claws. "He's practically sheds money. Dad used to go golfing with him back in the day. Then he met the love of his life, moved away to be with her and start a...family..."

He trailed off, noticing that Misto was now above him, walking along the bridge's narrow railing. He wasn't visibly balancing at all, and could just as easily be taking a stroll on flat ground.

"Another one of your magic tricks?" Tugger asked.

"This?" Misto replied with a playful smile. "No magic involved."

Oh, this was going to be fun. Time to play right back.

Tugger hoisted himself up on the metal railing next to him. He was fairly graceful himself, able to keep his balance...but maybe not to the extent of this remarkable cat.

"Well?" Tugger grinned, now perched atop the railing alongside him.

Misto cupped his chin. "Not bad. But I wasn't finished."

He lifted his arms, his lithe body arching backward. Right before the Maine coon's eyes, Mistoffelees had executed a perfect headstand on the railing, his legs straight in the air.

Tugger gaped. This cat was just full of surprises, wasn't he?

But he wasn't about to give up just yet.

The Rum Tum Tugger never turned down a challenge.

He mimicked his movements, lifting his arms, preparing to flip backward.

...And slipped.

"Tugger!!"

Somehow, Tugger found himself suspended in the air mid-fall, his arms and legs sprawled out, staring up at the cloudy sky. "Wh-What - ?!" It was as if someone had pressed the pause button on his body, his limbs frozen.

There was a sharp cry, followed by a splash. That was when the force holding Tugger in place abruptly released him, sending him tumbling into the river below.

Recovering from the shock of the cold water, Tugger swam to the surface, taking a great gulp of air. "Misto!" Something caught his attention then, a series of frantic, flashing patterns glowing beneath the rippling surface.

Holding his breath, Tugger dove under. As soon as he spotted the frightened cat, he grabbed onto him, dragging him back to the surface.

They burst out of the river, Tugger struggling to get them back to dry land while holding onto Misto at the same time. "I got you...!"

The two toms then collapsed onto the muddy riverbank, coughing and sputtering.

Misto was soaked to the bone, claws digging into the wet dirt. But there was something else, something strange. At first, Tugger thought it was just his own vision playing tricks on him.

An oppressive white aura had surrounded the tuxedo cat's form, blurring the contrasting colors of his coat together, obscuring his features. Simply looking at him caused Tugger's head to ache.

He realized that it wasn't his eyes. Rather, he was seeing the cat's fear manifesting in the form of his magic.

"Hey...hey."

Without thinking, Tugger pulled the shivering cat against him, holding him until he calmed down. "You're alright."

Much to his relief, the creepy aura slowly faded away, replaced by neon pink sparkles (and what those meant, he hadn't a clue).  
Misto was still in his arms, ears flat back against his head.

Tugger knew in that moment that he was looking at a cat that had never encountered danger before.

"You...You can swim," Misto finally said in a small voice.

"Not very well. Water never bothered me much."  
Tugger frowned. Ironically enough, he would have been fine if Misto hadn't tried to intervene. The most he would've gotten was a wet coat and a bruised ego.  
And yet, that wasn't what happened, because Misto's first instinct had been to protect _him_.

The two of them simply stayed like that for a moment longer, Misto nestled against Tugger's damp fluff. And maybe it was his ears deceiving him, but Tugger could have sworn he heard the other begin to purr.

But the moment was soon broken, the tuxedo cat awkwardly pulling away, getting to his feet. He offered a paw to Tugger, who took it.

"Being underwater like that makes it difficult for me to sense my magic," Misto explained without looking at him. "When that happened, I...I guess I panicked. This is so embarrassing..."

"Everyone has their embarrassing moments, Misto." Tugger paused a beat, before adding, "...Even a cat as strikingly handsome as myself."

Misto gave him a sideways glance. "Uh-huh."

"No, I mean it. I...uh...got stuck up a tree once." Tugger scratched his head.

This time Misto turned to look at him. "You did?" He asked incredulously. "For how long?!

"For over an hour. You see, what happened was...!"

\----

It was time for their train to depart.

Demeter and Bombalurina left the general store, the golden tabby carrying bags of candy for Munku and Jemima, flavors she knew they would love.

Upon meeting up with the other two, she couldn't help but notice that something was different about those boys. A something she couldn't quite figure out.

And that _didn't_ include the fact that they were both soaking wet, Tugger insisting that they had randomly decided to take a dip in the beautiful blue river.

Demeter and Bomba took their seat behind Tugger and the magician Mistoffelees, the attendant providing them with some fresh towels.

After an hour had passed, and Demeter noticed that Tugger was being uncharacteristically quiet. So she curiously peered over the seat. "Oh."

"What?" Bomba got up, doing the same.

The two toms were napping against one another, Mistoffelees resting his head against Tugger's shoulder, the Maine coon snoring softly.

Demeter couldn't help but smile. "How cute. Who knew Tugger could be such a big softie?"

"Yeah, who knew," Bombalurina chuckled. Demeter's smile faded as soon as she heard the pain in her friend's voice, that the other was clearly trying to conceal.

She settled back into her seat, turning her gaze to the window, as the grand city of St. James Town came into view.

\----

"I gotta hand it to you, Skimble," Tugger told the orange tabby after they had disembarked. "Taking the train...MIGHT have been a good idea after all. I guess..."

Bombalurina laughed, holding onto Tugger's arm. "Can't face up to the fact that someone else had a good idea, huh?"

"Psh. If it wasn't, I wouldn't have agreed to it!" Tugger pointed out, Skimble puffing out his chest proudly.

"Oh, any time. I'll be sure to let your brother know about your boundless gratitude to me," Skimbleshanks said, much to Tugger's chagrin.

The conversation went on, Demeter laughing about something else Skimble said. But Misto found himself drawn to the way Bombalurina held onto Tugger like that.

...And how perfect they looked together.

Bombalurina, who carried herself with confidence and grace as if she were royalty.

And Tugger, vain and self-obsessed as he was...complimented her well.

Only, he was a completely different cat around her. Cocksure, and less chatty.

Mistoffelees found that he didn't mind chatty Tugger, especially when he opened up about his life like he had back at Knollbrook.

Thankfully, the Maine coon hadn't told the girls about what happened on the bridge. As if the whole thing hadn't been humiliating enough.

And yet, the way Tugger held him like that after he saved him...why couldn't he stop thinking about it? He had been so kind...and genuine...and...

'Oh Everlasting,' Mistoffelees fretted to himself. 'I haven't even known him a week. We're practically strangers. So what's with these...feelings?'

"Misto?"

He turned, Demeter looking at him with concern. "You seem a little distressed."

"Just a little tired from the trip!" He assured her with a carefree smile.

The golden tabby looked skeptical, but didn't push the matter. "Well, we're going to check into the inn Skimble recommended first! You can get some rest there."

Mistoffelees nodded, then turned to Skimbleshanks, "I appreciate you putting this whole trip together for us, Skimble."

"My pleasure, Mistoffelees!" Skimbleshanks told him, bowing with an extravagant sweep of his arm. "I hope you find what you're looking for, young magician."

And with that, he sauntered off to tend to his duties, leaving the group to explore.

The seaside city of St. James Town was a lively place indeed, with Jellicles and Pollicles of all shapes and sizes making their way through the cobblestone streets.

Many of them, especially the Pollicles, were larger than Misto. But he wasn't intimidated. He preferred blending in, to be seen only when he wanted to be seen. His sensitive ears picked up on snatches of the many conversations around them.

"Haven't had good catnip like that in ages..."

"Charging that much? Who does he think he is...?"

"Portia? You look great...!"

A warm breeze ruffled Misto's fur, a briny scent lingering behind it. He paused only briefly to enjoy it...

Before suddenly realizing that he was alone, and had somehow wandered off from the other three.

Oops.

Being as short as he was, there was no way he way he was going to be able to find his way through this crowd. He needed a higher vantage point. "Hm...aha!"

There were wooden crates of supplies stacked up against one of the buildings by the pier. A perfect way to get a better view of the city, and much more preferable than asking for directions.

Misto hurried in that direction, nimbly stepping up on each crate, now standing on the rooftop of someone's house. "Perfect."

He could see everything from up here. The top of each passerby's head as they moved from one destination to the next, the massive sails of the ships docked at the harbor...

...And a luxurious mansion that overlooked the cliff side, where the waves crashed against the rocks below.

"That must be where Bustopher Jones lives," Mistoffelees murmured. They told him of Bustopher's wealth, but he never could have imagined any cat living in a place like that.

He walked along the rooftops, balancing with ease, but paused when someone snickering caught his attention.

"...That's right...I win again! Pay up, Sly."

"Another lucky roll," A raspy voice grumbled.

Misto soundlessly made his way across the shingles, peering down into the dark alleyway below, tail curved in the shape of a question mark.

The ragtag group of alleycats huddled around an old rope spool, which they had fashioned into some kind of table.

One was a Persian, with matted fur and a single tooth that jutted out from his bottom lip. Another, a wiry Sphinx, his hairless skin pulled taut across his ribs. And the last, a dopey Scottish fold with patches of fur missing here and there.

The Persian, who was apparently called 'Bojangles' pulled his prize towards him - shiny Jellicoins arranged in neat little stacks. "That's another one for me! Heh..."

Misto's silver eyes narrowed. He didn't make his presence known just yet, simply observing as the illegal game progressed, his gaze shifting from player to player. The dice clattered atop the wood with each roll. Bojangles let out another booming laugh, quickly shushed by the other two.

They were playing Craps. Street Craps, more specifically. He knew this game.

And he also knew that the other two cats were completely oblivious. Oblivious to the fact that the odds weren't exactly in their favor. 

"Heh...alright, boys...another round?" Bojangles asked, waiting expectantly.

"...Actually, I believe you owe these two some money."

All three of them whirled around, fur bristling at being caught completely off guard in the middle of their game. Misto had landed right next to them without them noticing.

"Get lost, kid," The Sphinx appropriately named Sly wheezed. "Rich little fuck..." 

"Yeah! Amscray!" The Scottish fold, Claudius, added for good measure, each of his bulging eyes looking in opposite directions.

Mistoffelees held his ground. "I'm just trying to help you out. That gentleman's using loaded dice." He gestured to Bojangles, whose pupils narrowed to slits.

"Yeah? Prove it." Bojangles challenged, the other two now listening carefully.

"Well, so far almost every wager you made, you've won. With a small loss here and there to ward off any suspicion," Misto went on, undeterred.

A tense silence hung in the air.

Finally, Bojangles let out a belly laugh. "That's your proof? Look here, little pussycat. An expert crapshooter such as myself knows how to throw. It's all in the wrist. You're gonna have to give me better proof than that."

'Oh, you're shooting crap, alright. Just not from your wrists,' Misto thought to himself.

But fine, if he wanted proof, he'd give him proof.

"...Very well, then." Misto held out his paw, revealing Bojangles's dice, that had mysteriously ended up in his possession.

Ignoring the stunned expressions before him (and Bojangles, who let out sputters of confusion as he searched for his missing dice), Misto weighed them thoughtfully.

"Hm...they're a little heavy. But what we're really looking for..."

He took a single die in his grasp, pinching it between his paw pads, holding it before their eyes.

Misto called his magic forth, feeling the warmth of it spreading through his chest once more. Gathering it up within himself, he sent it down his arm. He then shrank it down in size, condensing the energy until it was thin as a needle.

Making sure they could all see what he was doing, he extended a single claw on his other paw...bringing it to the die...and _pushed his magic outward._

A tiny metal object shot out, landing with a 'ping' on their makeshift table. Before the panicked Bojangles could grab it, Sly got to it first, snatching the nail that had been carefully drilled inside as a weight.

"You...You played us...?" Sly hissed, turning around to face the quivering Persian.

"Yeah! You...CHEATER!" Claudius accused, getting up from his seat, fur bristled.

"O-Of course not! Why would I do that to my pals?" Bojangles said with a nervous chuckle, starting to back away. "I don't even know how he pulled that freaky trick...!"

"HEY!"

A deep voice barked from the other end of the alley, an imposing black and tan Pollicle growling. On his vest gleamed a shiny police badge. "What did I say I would do if I caught you lot gambling again?!"

"Not sticking around to find out!" Sly replied, frantically grabbing all their winnings, Claudius waddling after them with surprising speed.

As the cop bounded towards him and didn't stop, Mistoffelees realized he still held the dice in his paws, effectively making him an accomplice.

Thinking fast, he tossed them into the air, where they exploded into a rainfall of glitter.

In the split second that it took for the dog to be distracted by the spectacle, Misto bolted.

He ran across the rooftops, dodging chimneys, leaping from one building to the next, trying to put some distance between himself and the -

"GET BACK HERE!"

Misto looked below him, seeing not one, but THREE Pollicles now hot on his trail on the streets below.

Ugh...he should have known better than to underestimate their powerful sense of smell, which was a form of magic in itself.

Leaping down from the building, he landed lightly on his feet, hoping to lose himself within the mingled scents of the crowd.

And that was when he ran headlong into a stranger, practically bouncing off of them, falling onto his rear.

"Oh! Good gracious me. Are you alright?" The stranger asked kindly, offering a paw to help him up.

Misto reached up and took it, his eyes widening.

Like him, the stranger was a tuxedo cat, but one whose age did nothing to diminish the air of elegance that surrounded him. 

The bright red petals of his boutonnière were a stark contrast to the black of his coat, as was the white fur on his chest and face. A golden monocle rested securely against one of his eyes.

But, most importantly, he was the stoutest cat Mistoffelees had ever seen.

The tuxedo cat helped him to his feet, dusting Misto's shoulders off with a flourish. "There. Oh!" He exclaimed, before leaning against his silver staff, eyes twinkling in delight.

"You must be Mistoffelees! Allow me to introduce myself!

My name is Bustopher Jones." 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tugger overindulges at dinner. A visit to the esteemed Bustopher Jones sparks a long forgotten memory.

"Oh dear. It looks like trouble," Bustopher said, seeing the group of police dogs bounding straight towards them. "Just follow my lead."  
  
He then straightened up, cleared his throat, and calmly waited for them to approach.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
The trio of dogs stopped directly in front of them, their intimidating stares focused on Misto. "You're in big trouble, kid!"  
  
"Ah!" Bustopher exclaimed, a pleasant smile on his round face. "It seems like you fine gentlemen already met my nephew!"  
  
The leader of the police dogs, the largest and tallest, crossed his arms. "Mr. Jones, your nephew was participating in illegal gambling. And we can also add evading the police to that crime."  
  
"That's serious indeed," Bustopher replied, "But my nephew would never participate in such loathsome behavior. I'm sure it was simply a matter of being in the wrong place in the wrong time."  
  
As they spoke, Misto hid behind Bustopher, peering up at the police officers with wide, teary eyes. He hunched down to make himself appear smaller, nonthreatening.  
  
The Pollicle sighed. "Regardless, he still fled from the police after causing a spectacle. An innocent cat wouldn't have bolted."  
  
Bustopher nodded in understanding. "And you're absolutely right to be suspicious. But my nephew, he's such a timid young thing. Easily spooked. We're working on his self-confidence!"  
  
Misto avoided their gaze. "I-I...I'm sorry...I didn't mean to cause any trouble," He stammered, his tail tucked between his legs. "I saw them running towards me...and I got nervous."  
  
The dogs relaxed only slightly, which Bustopher picked up on right away. "I appreciate you keeping me informed. Your efforts to keep this town safe do not go unnoticed!" He told them with a twinkle in his eye.  
  
The leader exchanged glances with his companions. "Just try to stay out of trouble from now on," He told Misto curtly, before answering a call on his transceiver. And with that, all three Pollicles left them be, heading to the other side of town.  
  
The tuxedo cats waited until they had turned a corner, watching the cops disappearing from sight.  
  
Once the coast was clear, they turned to each other, bursting into laughter.  
  
"That was quite a performance!" Bustopher tapped his cane to the ground in his enthusiasm. "I must say I'm impressed."  
  
"Likewise," Misto said with a grin. "Thank you very much for your help, Mr. Jones. I did bite off more than I could chew back there, with a few gambling alleycats," He admitted, scratching his ear. "I hope that doesn't affect your first impression of me."  
  
Bustopher waved off the formalities with a gloved paw. "Please, call me 'Bustopher'. And not at all, my boy! Deuteronomy and I spoke at length about you. There's much to talk about! I'd love for you to come join me and my family for dinner."  
  
"I'd be honored to join you," Misto told him politely. "But I came here with my friends, before losing them in the crowd. I should let them know where I am."  
  
Bustopher, however, seemed excited at the idea of more visitors. "Of course! The more the merrier! They're all invited."  
  
Misto took an immediate liking to this classy, upper-class cat. At first, he was worried what kind of Jellicle he'd be, especially after he saw his lavish mansion on the cliff side.  
  
But Bustopher Jones carried himself with confidence, not arrogance, and was surprisingly easygoing...especially in the way he handled the situation with the police.  
  
Were they related after all? They definitely looked alike, but just because two cats resembled one another, didn't mean they were relatives.  
  
'I suppose I'll find out soon,' Misto thought excitedly, following Bustopher down the cobblestone path. If they were indeed connected, he was one step closing to finding out more about himself...and everything he'd left behind.  
  
***  
  
Tugger remembered when he first met Bombalurina, the feisty red queen.  
  
While Munkustrap made his living in the classroom, teaching young minds about the rich history of Jellicle cats, Tugger made his teaching others how to communicate through the art of dance.  
  
He had envisioned something else for his career, more along the lines of strutting his stuff up and downstage, his crimson red guitar slung over his shoulder as he played for hundreds of screaming fans.  
  
But it just so happened that he had to start somewhere, and well, his flat wasn't going to pay for itself.  
  
He was a relatively new dance instructor back then, and the red queen had wandered into the studio in the middle of one of his lessons. She didn't interrupt once, simply leaning against the wall to observe.   
  
Her intense gaze caught his attention immediately, making him flub a simple move in front of his students. And once he finished, the attractive stranger insisted on starting from the beginners' class.  
  
'Oh, I used to take lessons here and there in my kittenhood,' She had informed him, 'I thought it might be fun to pick it up again.'  
  
Uh-huh. He found out THAT was lie when they all partnered up for a little lesson in salsa. Her posture was perfect, her movements graceful. She caught on to each move a little too easily, despite clearly trying to hold back.  
  
He couldn't move in on a student, of course. But she had no qualms about making her feelings known, meeting him after class one day to inform him that she was hungry and they both needed a break at the cafe down the street.  
  
And after that, the rest was history. They became a thing.  
  
What was that thing?  
  
What began as little sparks of mutual interest turned into something greater, flaring into an inferno.  
  
They were so alike, Tugger and Bomba. He flirted with her, she flirted back, unabashed.  
  
He'd try to take her off guard with a sassy quip, she'd return with a better one that left him stammering.  
  
They were unstoppable. Cats would freeze in their tracks to watch them walk by, wishing they could BE them.  
  
The Rum Tum Tugger and Bombalurina. Engaged in their passionate dance, with life as their stage.  
  
....But all dances have to end.  
  
A cloud of resentment loomed over their inferno, cooling it little by little, raining chilly little insults upon it here.  
  
_'You never listen. You don't care.'_  
  
_'You want to change me.'_  
  
_'You can never be serious.'_  
  
_'You're too serious.'_  
  
And so the flames sputtered down to a flicker.  
  
After one particularly nasty argument, they went for months without speaking. It didn't last, of course, because each wanted their partner back, and hated dancing solo.  
  
This became a pattern with the two of them. Their passion would flare up, and just as quickly fizzle out.  
  
They cared too much about each other to let go completely. So they came to an agreement - to keep things casual.  
  
Because once they began to entertain the idea of themselves at "mates", things got complicated.  
  
In fact, Tugger had completely embraced the idea of never having a mate, of living the free life as a single tom. Both he and Bomba could pursue whoever they wanted, without the messiness that came with a serious partnership.  
  
...Then along came Misto.  
  
That impish, playful, occasionally sarcastic little cat.  
  
Who was completely uninterested in Tugger's flirtatious nature, and only seemed to respond to his awkward attempts at sincerity.  
  
He had no idea who Mistoffelees really was, or where he came from.  
  
And yet, the magician had no idea that he held the Rum Tum Tugger spellbound.  
  
He was still thinking about him, even as a swanky limousine arrived to pick them up and bring them to Bustopher Jones' estate  
(where, much to their surprise, Misto was already waiting for them after vanishing into the crowd).  
  
Every once in a while, his thoughts would return to their closeness on the bridge, and how Misto had nuzzled against him. He always thought "butterflies in the stomach" was some cheesy cliche, but oh did he feel it in that moment. And that smile. Oh, that smile.  
  
'How does Misto really feel about me?' Tugger thought to himself as he looked out the window, the estate coming into view, iron gates parting for their vehicle.   
  
Vibrant green hedges surrounded the mansion, meticulously pruned, not a single leaf or twig out of place. Flowerbeds were arranged in their own neat little sections, adding color to the pristine landscape. Vines elegantly curled their way up the mansion's stones walls - the only plants allowed to grow the way nature intended them to.  
  
The vehicle came to a stop, Tugger opening the door stepping and out first. With a sweep of his arm, he bent over at the waist in an exaggerated bow.  
  
"Ladies." He held out a paw, Bombalurina rolling her eyes with a smile and taking it.  
  
"Spend a week here, and we might make a proper gentleman out of you yet, Tugger," Demeter said with a wry smile after he offered a paw to her next.  
  
As they approached the arched wrought iron door, Tugger wasn't shy about reaching out and knocking a couple times.  
  
The doors opened, revealing two identical short hairs. Both were tall and sleek, the dark and subdued colors of their fur mingling with patches of white.  
  
"Welcome," They said with a bow, the movement in complete unison, which kind of creeped Tugger out.  
  
"Dinner will be served in just a few minutes," The queen of the pair told the group politely as they stepped inside.  
  
Demeter gasped.. "This place is..."  
  
Tugger affirmed with a whistle, taking it all in.  
  
Two marble staircases curved their way inward to the upper floor, each lined with railings of an intricate design. He turned his eyes to the ceiling, noticing the ornate chandelier hanging above their heads.  
  
The twins led them down a corridor, oil paintings hanging on the walls. Some depicted a picturesque landscape. Others, of cats who were most likely rich, dead, or both.  
  
As they neared the dining room, Tugger heard laughter and cheering coming from inside, the twins opening the door for them.  
  
He found himself in the middle of a dazzling display of twinkling lights, little stars circling the room. Bustopher and what appeared to be his family were clapping and watching in delight, but the Maine Coon only had eyes for one cat right now.  
  
There was Misto, right in the center of it all, standing atop a chair. His eyes were focused, brow furrowed in deep concentration. He moved his arms in deliberate gestures, manipulating the lights to his will.  
  
_"Presto!"_  
  
In response to his shout, the lights froze in place, before zipping around the room to each member of the audience.  
  
Tugger flinched when they shot towards him, hearing a startled yelp from a few of the others. But when he looked down at himself, he noticed the lights had settled harmlessly against his coat, as if he himself were dressed in a suit made of starlight.  
  
"It's so beautiful!" A young queen with a snow white coat twirled about the room, now clothed in a sparkling gown.  
  
"Simply marvelous!" Bustopher laughed, oblivious to the fact that he was now sporting a shimmering top hat.  
  
Misto then spread his arms wide, the stars flickering out and vanishing, the room illuminated by artificial light once more. As he stepped down from the chair and took a bow, everyone applauded, Tugger the loudest of all.  
  
"That was incredible!" He cheered, "Phenomenal!"  
  
Misto beamed at the praise, but Tugger's excitement faded slightly when he saw that the tuxedo cat looked winded...and a little wobbly.  
  
In the guise of congratulating him, he put an arm around his shoulders to steady him. "How do you still manage to surprise me every time I see you?" He asked, grinning.  
  
"Maybe you're just easily surprised," Misto replied with a wink.  
  
'Cheeky kitten,' Tugger thought, his heart beating faster. 'Pushing yourself to the limit just to put on a show!'  
  
But aside from that small blunder, Misto was good at hiding it, because he immediately straightened up to address Tugger, Demeter and Bomba.  
  
"Everyone, let me introduce you! This is Bustopher, his wife Jenny..."   
  
Bustopher definitely resembled Misto, with his perfectly groomed tuxedo and white fur on his face. His defining feature wasn't his coloring though, but the fact that he was a very, very fat cat. While his wife Jenny didn't have as much girth, she was still pleasantly plump, with a round face that radiated motherly warmth.  
  
"...And their daughter, Victoria," Misto finished.  
  
Not a single stray color marred Victoria's flawless white coat. She wore a pink collar around her neck, embedded with diamonds that caught the light (that were undoubtedly real, considering their house).  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you," She told Tugger shyly.  
  
Tugger responded by gently taking her paw, bringing it to his lips. _"E nchanté." _

He winced when Demeter elbowed him in the ribs, giving him a stern look. But Victoria only giggled, charmed.  
  
"Please, everyone have a seat and make yourselves at home!" Jenny urged. "Dinner will be ready soon!"  
  
Much to Tugger's surprise, the twins (who he learned were the butlers, Tantomile and Coricopat), also joined the family at the dinner table once the food was served.  
For living in the lap of luxury, the family was at least humble enough not to force their servants to eat in a separate room.  
  
A surprising array of food had been carted inside - which included hot buttered rolls, glazed salmon, wild rice, and roasted vegetables.  
  
Tugger noticed an overabundance of utensils, but didn't bother trying to figure out the purpose of any of them.  
He simply picked up the closest fork and went to town. "Looks great, thanks!" His glass had already been filled to the top with wine, so he didn't hesitate to guzzle that down too.  
  
Not bad at all! He did enjoy the occasional glass of wine, but this was fancy stuff. Who knows when he would get to indulge in anything more than a cheap bottle of Cabernet from the local liquor store.  
  
Bomba nudged him with her arm, leaning in. "Tugger," She warned in a whisper, "I would go easy on the wine, if I were you..."  
  
"You worry too much," He replied with a dismissive wave of his paw. Munkustrap was the lightweight, not him. "A couple drinks won't hurt."  
  
Bombalurina sighed, taking a sip of her own wine. "Fine, then. Suit yourself." She muttered.  
  
Satisfied that she didn't try to lecture him further, Tugger turned to Misto, who had surprisingly taken his seat on the other side of him.  
"Did you find out anything new? About your past?" Tugger asked him, eager to know if they dug up anything from the family tree.  
  
"Yes!" Misto said, "It turns out that Bustopher and I are both related to Kat Morgan."  
  
Tugger tilted his head. "'Kat Morgan?'"  
  
"My grandfather," Bustopher chimed in. "I never met him, but this was his house, you see. He had quite the reputation back in the day, as a pirate that sailed wherever he pleased."  
  
"Pirate?!" Demeter gaped.  
  
"That's right!" Jenny answered gleefully. She turned to Misto briefly, who smiled at her in return in silent agreement. One could tell from the way her eyes lit up that she thoroughly enjoyed telling this story.  
  
"Kat Morgan's not nearly as well-known as Growltiger," Jenny told them, "He didn't meet a dramatic end, but instead grew weary of a life of chasing treasure and queens.  
So he decided to retire, and lived the rest of his days as a wealthy cat.

He found the love of his life, Felicity, in this very town, and they both had a son named Quaxo. That son grew up to be the famous traveling magician, the Original Conjuring Cat, Mr. Mistoffelees!"  
  
Bustopher nodded. "My grandmother, Octavia, had a fleeting relationship with Kat during his pirating days," He continued. "And my father, Bustopher Jones the First, was so ashamed of Kat's past that he changed his name from 'Morgan' to 'Jones' as soon as he was old enough to do so."

Bustopher dabbed at his mouth with his handkerchief, Tugger doing a double take when he saw Bustopher's empty plate. It was completely full just moments ago.  
  
"This house is rich in its history," Bustopher continued. "I purchased it with the desire to learn more about my grandfather and the mysterious magician that was raised here. To this day, no one knows what caused the disappearance of Mr. Mistoffelees. Some say he vanished intentionally. That he, like Kat, tired of his old life and wanted to start anew. Others believe it was a trick gone wrong, a vanishing act that didn't go as planned."  
  
Tugger distractedly poured himself another glass of wine, turning to Misto, whose expression was now distant. "Does...any of that sound familiar to you?" He asked him, Misto slowly shaking his head.  
  
"Nothing," Misto said quietly.  
  
A brief silence came over the room.  
  
Finally, Jenny stood up from her seat, crouching down by Misto's side and taking his paw. "My dear, your old life might be lost. But you're more than welcome to start a new one with us." She assured him.  
  
"You're...asking me to stay?" Misto whispered. "I... don't want to impose...!"  
  
"Nonsense!" Bustopher exclaimed. "Like Jenny said, we're family. And we would be happy to have you."  
  
Victoria nodded, her blue eyes sparkling. "It'll be nice not to be an only child anymore. ...Even if you are technically my great-uncle."  
  
They all had a laugh, a soft smile on Misto's face.  
  
"Thank you, all of you," He said. "I don't know what to say...you've all been so good to me."  
  
Tugger gave Misto a playful smack on the back. "I knew asking Dad would pay off! Don't sweat it about your memories," He assured him. "They'll come back to you. I'm sure of it."  
  
The tuxedo cat looked a bit misty-eyed for a moment, or maybe it was just Tugger's imagination. "You're right, Tugger. Thank you for everything."   
  
Tugger grinned, downing the rest of his wine, trying to ward off the negative feelings that caught him off guard.  
  
Misto had found his family, and he was happy for him.  
  
He had a huge, beautiful mansion by the ocean, and all the food and comforts he could ever want.  
  
Cats like him didn't go out with small town dancing instructors.  
  
...But Tugger knew what he wanted. And when he wanted something, he went for it.  
  
Despite the very real and terrifying possibility of rejection, he planned on getting to know Misto for whatever time he had left in this city.  
  
And maaaaybe, ask him on a date. Tomorrow? Tomorrow sounded good.  
  
As they continued their meal, a thick haze began to surround him. But Tugger ignored it, pouring himself his third (or was it forth? Fourth and a half?) glass.

"Everyone!" He announced, lifting the glass and getting to his feet, wavering when the ground decided to tilt beneath him. "I'd like to propose a toast! To Misto, and his new start!"

Demeter and Bombalurina exchanged glances, lifting their wine glasses, the Jones' eagerly following suit.  
  
"To Misto!!"  
  
Tugger beamed, drinking down the wine, and starting to sit where he thought the chair was. Only, it wasn't there.  
  
He was suddenly aware of the fact that he was falling, his ass-bone slamming into the hard floor.  
  
"Goodness! Are you alright, hun?!" He vaguely heard Jenny call out to him.  
  
"Yup! 'S'all good!" Tugger heard himself reply, struggling to get back to his feet, reaching out and grabbing the first thing within reach.  
  
...Which happened to be the tablecloth.  
  
As the once peaceful dinner exploded into a chaotic mess of spilled food and shattered dishes, Tugger's hazy mind tried to sort out the reason for this funny feeling of deja vu.  
  
***  
  
Fortunately, Misto managed to freeze the rest of the table's contents before they could follow Tugger onto the pile on the floor. He called his magic forth to his paws, gathering all the broken pieces of glass together before anyone could cut themselves.  
  
Coricopat and Tantomile hurried about to tend to the rest of the mess, Demeter apologizing profusely all the while. But the family was completely understanding, insisting that there was nothing to be sorry for.  
  
Misto offered to help Tugger to the washroom to clean some of the food of off his coat, figuring it was best to remove him from the situation to sober up a bit.  
  
As Misto supported the reeling Maine Coone on the way to the washroom, Tugger let out a long sigh.  
  
"Hey...I'm really sorry about that," Tugger mumbled. "I messed up big time back there..."  
  
"Well, it could have been worse," Misto answered in a lame attempt to comfort him.  
  
"Ugh...guess I should've listened to Bomba..."  
  
"About...?" Misto glanced over at him.  
  
"Drinking too much wine...she's always right. About like...everything," Tugger slurred.  
  
Misto debated asking Tugger a question that had been plaguing him since they first boarded the train. 'It can't be right to ask someone about their relationships while they're drunk,' He thought to himself. 'Especially if...'  
  
He paused as they passed a glass door on the way to the washroom, Tugger stumbling as they came to an abrupt stop. "You okay...?"  
  
"Yes, I just..." Misto trailed off. Through the window, he could clearly see the gardens - the thorny rose bushes and deep red blossoms surrounding a small stone bench.  
  
He sat there before. In that very spot.  
  
He'd been upset about something...and needed time to be alone.  
  
He had been talking to someone, another cat. A ginger cat. His words had reassured Mistoffelees, his voice comforting.  
  
_'They don't understand, do they? I know how you feel, Quaxo._  
  
_...Because I can use magic, too.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Rum Tum Tugger and Mr. Mistoffelees are hereby banned from all dinner parties, particularly the fancy kind.
> 
> Thank you guys as always for reading and enjoying my fic, every review means the world to me, you have no idea!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misto explores his childhood home with the help of Victoria. Tugger gathers his courage and takes action.

_'....I know how you feel Quaxo._  
  
_Because I can use magic too.'_  
  
The memory had imprinted itself upon his mind, a living snapshot. Misto could recall every emotion, every sensation he experienced on that night.  
  
The cold stone of the bench beneath him, the damp chill of the spring wind as it ruffled his fur. The startling green eyes of the ginger cat, who had visited him during a moment of loneliness.  
  
But the most frustrating part of it all, was that he couldn't even remember the context of any of this.  
  
He still had no idea why he was upset, and he couldn't for the life of him remember the other cat's name. A cat who must have been his friend, now long dead.  
  
...Was there was really another cat like him, who could use magic? Or did the cat _really_ mean tricks of slight of paw and misdirection, nothing more?  
  
He already knew that his past identity - Mr. Mistoffelees - had been a skilled magician and showman, one that was still remembered today.  
  
...But no one had ever mentioned another magical cat.  
  
He was still dwelling on that garden memory when they returned to the inn for the night, Tugger immediately collapsing onto the bed in a dead sleep.  
  
Unfortunately, sleep did not come easily for the little tuxedo cat, and after spending half the night of tossing and turning he finally gave up.  
  
Glancing over at Tugger, who was still snoring away, he carefully opened the window and climbed out.  
  
He crept soundlessly up the side of the building, hoisting himself up onto the roof, where he settled with his back against the chimney.  
  
He loved high places such as these. Here, he could take it all in...the tranquility of the transition from night to morning, a rare sight that went unnoticed by those who preferred to sleep in. The stars above him faded into a deep blue sky as the sun began to rise above the ocean.  
  
'I wonder if I should start calling myself "Quaxo" from now on,' Misto thought to himself. 'After all, that's my real name, not a stage name.'  
  
...No. He had already grown used to everyone referring to him as "Misto". Once Tugger began calling him that, it somehow stuck.  
  
He was now Mistoffelees "Misto" Jones, and he had found friends, family, and a home.  
  
A soft smile came to his face, his eyes closing as city below came alive with the light of dawn.  
  
Misto took his time enjoying his peaceful solitude, even napping for a while in that spot. It was only when he was rudely awakened by an angry car horn did he reluctantly get to his feet.  
  
Last night, the Jones' insisted that he visit again today, and he was going to take them up on that offer. Jenny in particular was eager to see him again. She had mentioned something about taking his measurements, wanting to sew him some new clothes.  
  
Curious to see if Tugger had managed to sleep off the wine, he made his way back in through the open window and climbed inside.  
  
"...Ugh...never going to drink again..."  
  
His answer was grumbling from the bathroom, the door ajar. Just as Misto wandered in that direction, Tugger exited the room, and nearly collided with him.  
  
"AH! M-Misto?!" Tugger stammered, fur standing on end. "Eheh...good morning...! I thought you left early." He self consciously smoothed out his mane with his paws.  
  
The Maine coon's fur, normally groomed to perfection, was now unkempt and wild, giving him the appearance of a fearsome lion instead of a cat.  
  
Misto tilted his head. "It looks cute like that."  
  
Tugger paused, before looking away with a pout. "You're just saying that. I could never leave the house like...THIS," He emphasized the last word with revulsion.  
  
"No, I mean it," Misto said, "Although, you also look like you're about to jump out of the jungle and attack me."  
  
Tugger's pout gave way to a grin. He leaned in close with a fierce growl. "I AM feeling rather beastly this morning," He warned.  
  
Misto placed a paw on his forehead, slowly pushing him away.  
  
"Let's not overdo it," He told him, serious all but for a playful sparkle in his eyes. "Anyway, the Jones' invited me over, so I'm going to spend some time with them today, if that's alright with you three."  
  
"Of course it is! You need time to get to know your family," Tugger said. "But...you got any time to spare in the evening? I was thinking we could go get dinner, just you and me. My treat!" He didn't meet Misto's eyes this time, distractedly examining his own claws.  
  
Misto smiled. Maybe the girls wanted to do something together tonight, and he certainly didn't want Tugger to be lonely. Besides, he was looking forward to spending more time with him. "That sounds fun. I'd love to."  
  
Tugger's head shot up. "Really?!" He exclaimed, before seeming to catch himself, leaning against the door frame. "That's great. Let's meet in the square around...say, six o'clock?"  
  
"Six o'clock," Misto agreed, smiling. "I'm looking forward to it."   
  
The Rum Tum Tugger seemed to be in a much more cheerful mood after that, Misto leaving him to continue his morning ritual.  
  
Misto was perfectly fine with walking to the estate, to take his time enjoying the sights, but Bustopher had already sent one of the servants to pick him up by car.  
No sooner had he stepped through those wrought-iron doors, Jenny gathered him in a bone-crushing embrace.  
  
"Misto! Welcome back, honey!" She greeted, smiling from ear to ear. The fragrance of her perfume lingered in the air even after she released him, reminding him of the flowery fields back at Knollbrook. "How's your friend, he alright?"  
  
"He's much better," Misto told her. "He just needed to sleep it off, that's all."  
  
"Good, we were worried about him, poor thing." She ushered him into another room, Misto's paws stepping onto a plush carpet.  
  
"Breakfast will be ready soon! Forgive my mess, I completely forgot to tidy up," Jenny fretted, leading him inside.  
  
An old sewing machine sat atop a wooden table, bulky and chipped. Despite its age, Misto he could tell it was a reliable machine that had served its seamstress well for years...and would stubbornly outlive any new model.  
  
The proof was all around him, in the form of Jenny's many creations. He passed a mannequin in the shape of a slender queen, chest bare, elegantly dressed from the torso down in a half finished skirt.  
  
Upon closer inspection, Misto could see that the embroidered flowers were lovingly stitched, crafted with a steady paw and a keen eye. For Victoria, no doubt. She'd look beautiful in this skirt once it was finished.  
  
Woven baskets lined the shelves above his head, each overflowing with an assortment of yarn, a rainbow of colors. One thread of yarn had worked itself free from its bundle, dangling before his eyes.  
  
Stubbornly, he tried to ignore it.   
  
But sadly, his efforts proved to be in vain. He couldn't resist batting at it a couple times, Jenny thankfully preoccupied with searching for her missing measuring tape.  
  
Once Misto had gotten that out of his system, something else caught his eye.  
  
Wedged between several stacks of cloth was a deep blue fabric, decorated with shining stars.  
  
"Aha!" Jenny exclaimed. "There you are, pesky tape. ...You like that one, hun?" Before Misto could reply, she was already yanking it free from the other fabrics, holding it out in front of her. "You know, I completely forgot I had this one! Here, go stand in front of the mirror."  
  
Misto obliged, Jenny draping the silky fabric across his shoulders as he stood before his reflection.  
  
The cat in the mirror stared back at him with wide eyes, cloaked in a starlit night sky.  
  
Beside him, Jenny smiled. "It suits you."  
  
She folded the fabric back up neatly and intentionally placed it aside for later, now busying herself with taking his measurements - shoulder to arm, shoulder to shoulder, across his chest.  
  
"Mother?"  
  
Victoria peeked into the room, "Do you mind if I borrow Misto? There's something I want to show him!" She said excitedly.  
  
"Of course! Just make sure you're back for breakfast!" Jenny replied, jotting down his measurements on a piece of paper.  
  
Victoria beamed, leading him down the long corridor to her father's study. Unlike Jenny's chaotic yet homey sewing room, Bustopher's study was as neat as a pin, the mustiness of old books mingling with the earthy smell of cigars.  
  
"I bet you'd remember something like this," Victoria told him cryptically, hurrying over to the bookcase.  
  
But instead of taking a book from the shelves, she carefully felt her way along the edge...and began to pull.  
  
Misto's ears perked, the magician watching as it swung open like a door, revealing a hidden room. "That's amazing!"  
  
Victoria winked, beckoning him to follow. The passage led to a spiral staircase, the two cats making their way through the winding passage, higher and higher. Victoria arrived at the top first, stepping aside to let him take in their surroundings.  
  
They were now inside the mansion's turret, which gave the room its rounded shape, sunlight pouring in through the window. A stained glass lamp sat beside a soft chaise lounge, creating the perfect little reading nook.  
  
"My father discovered this room completely by accident!" He heard Victoria say, her voice sounding distant to his ears. "I bet if Mr. Mistoffelees had a favorite place, it would be here..."  
  
...And she was right. He knew it well.  
  
He would come here from time to time, to think.  
  
To hide.  
  
_'Stop making such a racket, Quaxo!'_  
  
The harsh words of a tom...his father?  
  
...No. His real father, Kat, had always been proud of him and his magic.   
  
He had encouraged him, and even taught him card games and dice tricks from his pirating days.  
  
But his father passed, and with him, Quaxo's perfect kittenhood. His mother had taken another mate soon after.  
  
' _Stop fooling around with that magic. What a nuisance...'_  
  
_'Sit up straight. Don't slouch.'_  
  
_'Start acting like a normal cat. What will everyone think?'_  
  
"Misto?"  
  
He touch on the shoulder startled him, and he whirled around. Victoria was watching him, concern evident in her bright blue eyes.   
  
"You were spacing out...are you alright?" She asked. "I'm sorry...maybe coming here was a bad idea."  
  
Misto shook his head. "No, I'm glad we came here. This house is beautiful, and I love this room," He assured her with a smile, going over to sit on the lounge, making room for her beside him.  
  
He wasted no time in telling her about the memories that had recently been returning to him...his stepfather, and the ginger cat last night.  
  
"Another cat with powers like yours?" She asked, her expression deep in thought. "I wonder what his were like...or if he was telling the truth."  
  
Misto nodded. "The only other cat I know that has some magic in him is Tugger's father...he helped me get out of that music box, after all. But he's not a magician."  
  
A mischievous smile came to Victoria's face then. "Tugger's pretty cute. He's so charming and confident. How's he doing after last night?"  
  
"Oh, he's back to his old self again. We're actually going to dinner tonight," Misto said casually, looking out the window at the city below them.  
  
"Just the two of you...?"  
  
"I thought it was strange too, I guess the others want to have some girl time to themselves." When he noticed that Victoria was simply staring at him, he blinked. "What?"  
  
"Misto." Victoria was clearly holding back laughter, biting her lip. "He just asked you out. On a date."  
  
Oh.  
  
...Wait.  
  
WHAT?  
  
Misto froze, before bursting into laughter of his own. She really had him going there for a second. "A date? That's absurd!" He chuckled. "Tugger wouldn't ask me out on a date!"  
  
Victoria crossed her arms, continuing to stare him down. "And why not?"  
  
"Well, he's...Tugger. He's all swagger. He wants someone with...you know, flair."  
  
"And you DON'T have flair?" Victoria got to her feet, twirling around in a flawless pirouette, before spreading her arms wide in what was definitely an over dramatic gesture. _"Presto!"_  
  
"...Oh, fine. Point taken," He acknowledged with a smirk. "But seriously, he's already interested in someone else." He tried to prevent the disappointment from creeping into his voice.  
  
Victoria flopped back down next to him. "Misto, you didn't see him during the show you put on for my parents. He couldn't keep his eyes off you. And I don't mean as a member of the audience. He was looking at YOU."  
  
"He...but that was...he couldn't..." The words became jumbled as they left Misto's mouth, the obnoxiously bright pink sparks starting to surround his head before he could try to stop them. Victoria tilted her head, her smile becoming even more devilish.  
  
"You're sparkling."  
  
"I'm aware."  
  
"Do you do that when you like someone...?"  
  
"What? N-No!"  
  
"You like him!"  
  
Misto swatted at her, Victoria cackling and dodging nimbly out of the way, chucking a pillow at his head. This promptly led to a play wrestling match, after which Tantomile came to summon them for breakfast.  
  
The slender queen paused, finding the two young cats, as well as the rest of the room, covered in downy feathers.   
  
***  
  
Before Misto knew it, time had flown right by and it was already almost six o'clock.  
  
...Almost time for his date. With Tugger.  
  
Everlasting.  
  
Why did Victoria have to tell him that's what it was?  
  
If he didn't know, he could have easily kept his composure. He could have gone about this as if it were any other day.  
  
But nooooo.  
  
Now he was a bundle of nerves, and it was taking all his concentration NOT to let that manifest in the form of his magic. It was as if he were having an uncharacteristically bad case of stage fright, without any of the thrill of performing.  
  
'Deep breaths,' He told himself as he searched for Tugger in the square, dodging other Jellicles and Pollicles as they walked by.  
  
"Misto! Over here!"  
  
His sensitive ears picked up on the familiar voice, Misto following it until he saw his date (DATE!) waving at him from the fountain.  
  
The Rum Tum Tugger's mane was back under control, silky and perfect, coming down into its trademark curl in the front. He smiled that gorgeous smile when Misto came over...  
  
...Ugh, could he just stop being so damn attractive for just five minutes?!  
  
"You made it!" Tugger went on, completely oblivious to Misto's inner turmoil. "I found the perfect place, you're gonna love it!"  
He took his paw, the two of them weaving through the evening crowd once more. Misto could hear music playing, and it was getting louder the further they walked.  
  
"Here we are," Tugger announced as they arrived at their destination.  
  
It was a waterfront restaurant, neat little tables arranged on the terrace, where customers could dine and enjoy the ocean view at the same time. The source of the music he heard earlier was a live band playing, adding to the atmosphere.  
  
It wasn't the kind of place he'd expect the Rum Tum Tugger to take him for dinner. He was expecting someplace flashier, noisier. It was...surprisingly romantic.  
  
After they had both taken their seats, their waiter arrived with a notepad and pen in hand, "Good evening! I'm Plato and I'll be your server today," He greeted.  
  
He was quite tall even for a growing young tom, his coat a simple mix of black and auburn, contrasting with the white fur on his face and chest. He had an amiable disposition despite how busy it was tonight, taking their orders with a smile.  
  
As he hurried off, Misto turned back to Tugger, "You were right, this is a nice place," He said, the band now playing a soothing ballad. "Thank you for inviting me."  
  
Before Tugger could answer, commotion from next table over drew their attention.  
  
A Himalayan with a tacky jeweled collar was prattling on and on about her "unsatisfactory" meal, Plato addressing her concerns as politely as he could.  
  
"I'm so sorry, ma'am," He apologized. "I'll bring it back immediately."  
  
"Don't bother." She turned up her nose in disgust. "I've never seen lettuce with this many spots. When I go out to eat, I expect to be served FRESH food."  
  
Tugger glanced at her, then turned back to Misto in disbelief, his tail swatting behind him in irritation. Misto responded by rolling his eyes.  
  
But, things only escalated from there.  
  
"I'd like to speak to the manager. This is the third time I've come to this place, and every single time, the food wasn't even fresh - !"  
  
"I'm sor - "  
  
"No, don't interrupt me," She cut him off, slamming a paw onto the table. "Go get your manager and bring him here. Now. I'd like to discuss this with him personally."  
  
Misto bristled...and a sly smile came to his face.  
  
What a perfect opportunity to test his magic further, and teach her a little lesson in common courtesy.  
  
He lifted his paw -  
  
"Are you kidding me?" Tugger snapped at her before Misto could call forth his power. "Listening to you yowling about spots - on a PLANT that grows out of the GROUND - is bad enough.  
But you're gonna be an ass to this kid, too? Who's just doing his job?"  
  
A few of the other patrons had stopped to listen with interest, Plato gaping at Tugger.  
The Himalayan went rigid, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly in a failed attempt to defend herself.  
  
"Shut up and eat your damn food," Tugger growled. "It's your third time here - clearly they're doing something right if you keep coming back."  
  
Muttering under her breath, she gave up on her tirade.  
  
"And here I was, contemplating how nice her fur would look in a lovely shade of purple," Misto commented.  
  
Tugger leaned back in his chair. "You can't be subtle with someone like that," He explained. "They need to be called out on it. Besides, I'm not letting anyone spoil MY dinner. Especially when it's with someone so interesting and ridiculously attractive."  
  
"Is that so?"  
  
"It is so."  
  
This time, Misto managed to keep his composure as he sipped his drink. He reined in his magic...containing it within himself, so it didn't display his giddiness to the entire restaurant.  
  
...Although, much like shaking up a carbonated drink, the pressure would eventually need to be released.  
  
"I'd like to get to know you more, Tugger," Misto informed him, resting his chin on his paw. "I'm the one without a past, and yet you already learned so much more about me."  
  
"Curious are we?" Tugger smirked. "Alright, kitten. Ask away."  
  
_What's the story with you and Bombalurina?_  
  
He pushed the nagging question to the back of his mind.  
  
"You had a strange looking guitar in your room. Do you play in front of an audience?" He asked instead. It was clearly something that Tugger was passionate about, as it was the only object in his room that was kept neat and tidy.  
  
Tugger seemed surprised at his question. "Eh, nothing much more than the occasional gig. I mostly play for myself, and the family. I write my own music, too."  
  
"I'd like to hear it sometime."  
  
"You would?"  
  
"Of course I would."  
  
Tugger's flirtatious smile softened. "In that case, I think I can arrange something."  
  
"I'll hold you to that."  
  
The more they talked, the more Misto began to forget that he was on a date. Tugger was certainly not shy when it came to talking about himself. But as their conversation went on, he began to open up to him.  
  
Misto learned that Tugger's mother had passed away when he and his brother were kittens - Old Deuteronomy a single father. Tugger didn't remember her at all, but Munkustrap did.  
  
He learned that the brothers had both taken dancing lessons when they were young, but only Tugger had pursued it after he was old enough to live on his own. He was good at it, and he didn't mind making a living from it. But...it wasn't enough.  
  
He wanted more. To tour the world with music, or, if that was impossible, to ride his bike across the country, no destination in mind.  
  
To see everything.  
  
"It's like I'm always searching for something, and can never find it. Every day's the same routine. Sometimes, I just want to pack it all up and GO." His expression was distant, longing.  
  
Misto found himself wanting to reassure him. But he simply could not find the right words, and as Tugger straightened up with a short laugh, the opportunity was lost.  
  
"Everlasting, I'm starving!" He said, changing the subject. "They can at least play something more exciting to distract me from my stomach."  
  
"You're in luck. Here comes our food," Misto said, Plato returning with their dinner. The waiter couldn't mention anything with the rude cat within hearing range, but his grateful smile at Tugger said it all.  
  
And Tugger made sure to leave Plato a generous tip on the way out.  
  
Instead of returning to the inn, they decided to sit on the pier, their legs danging over the edge as they watched the lighthouse shine beams of light across the murky waters.  
  
"I had a wonderful time today, Tugger," Mistoffelees said softly. "Thank you."  
  
"You don't need to thank me."  
  
"Yes, I do."  
  
Misto was the first to notice that their paws were nearly touching, both resting against the grainy wooden surface of the pier.  
  
He didn't know what possessed him to do what he did next.  
  
But he slid his paw closer and closer to Tugger's. Once they made uncertain contact, he grasped Tugger's paw securely in his own.  
  
They simply stayed like that for a few moments, Misto suddenly aware of his own racing heartbeat.  
  
He noticed out of the corner of his eye, that Tugger was watching him.  
  
As soon as he turned his head, Tugger smoothly leaned in, connecting their lips.  
  
A mewl of surprise escaped Misto, his eyes drifting shut...  
  
...As he promptly forgot about restraint, and what had been building up inside him this entire time.  
  
Just like a carbonated beverage that had been shaken around for far too long, _it exploded._  
  
Every source of light in the city - every street lamp, every traffic light, every single fixture in each house and apartment, flared up in a blinding _flash._  
  
And just like that, one kiss had plunged the entire city of St. James Town into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one likes a Karen - not even a cat Karen. 
> 
> A huge thanks to everyone both on here and Tumblr for reading and enjoying my fanfic. As always, I love seeing your comments and hearing the parts you enjoyed the most!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cat born with both a blessing and a curse reflects on his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little backstory about a certain cat with unhappy beginnings. 
> 
> Shorter chapter today, but short and sweet I hope! 
> 
> Please enjoy and thank you guys for sticking by my story! 
> 
> Every single one of your comments mean the world to me.

_St. James Town, 1888_  
  
The Cat's Fiddle pub was a popular destination in the city, so much so that even Pollicles weren't deterred by its namesake. Not only did it appeal to those just passing through town, but also to the laborers ready to shed the stress of a hard day's work. Drinking, socializing, gambling, and sometimes all three took place there.  
  
The building found its home on 26 Elliot Street, sandwiched between a quaint little hat shop and the stately Law Offices of Thomas & Stearns. Above the entrance, a hanging sign welcomed visitors with the painted image of a striped tabby playing its trademark instrument.  
  
A ginger cat, tall and imposing in stature, made his way down the cobblestone street. No one spared him a passing glance, with his trench coat and raggedy wide-rimmed hat. He moved like a shadow, and could very well be a vagabond with no particular destination in mind.  
  
...Only, Macavity did have a destination, and that was the Cat's Fiddle, where he could blend in and put his skills to good use.  
  
The sun was just beginning to set, much to his relief, taking its infuriating light with it. The hat on his head could only do so much to protect him during the day. With the setting sun, his pain receded.  
  
Macavity was no stranger to pain.  
  
He was born in a litter of two, to an impoverished single mother. His younger brother (who their mother had affectionately nicknamed "Ronnie") was the perfect kitten - healthy and affectionate, with silky fur.  
  
But the two kits were like night and day. Macavity was a nightmare of a kitten the moment his eyes opened to the world.  
  
Everything was so unbearably bright...the light of the sun sending white hot pain lancing through his eyes and into his head. He'd endured it by acting out, clawing and hissing at whoever was unfortunate to come within reach. The only time the pain would subside was during the comfort of nightfall. Sleep was only a reprieve from the torture that awaited him every single morning.  
  
Their mother was already struggling to care for the two kittens, let alone one that was prone to violent outbursts.  
  
So rather than neglect to care for both, the troubled one was abandoned to the streets, forced to fend for himself as a stray.  
  
However, there was more to Macavity than an aversion to light.  
  
There was also magic. Magic that he could call forth from deep within.  
  
And it was that magic that saved a sickly kitten from certain death, allowing him to grow strong, into a cat of his own making.  
  
He made a promise to himself then - to only rely on himself, and to never allow himself to show weakness.  
  
As he walked down Elliot Street, Macavity caught a glimpse of his reflection in the hat shop's display window. Acid green eyes gleamed back at him beneath the rim of his hat, his wild red mane contained. But what really caught his attention was his ratty old hat, compared to the attractive new ones in the case.  
  
Why shouldn't he treat himself once in a while?  
  
Vagabond or no, it didn't mean he had to dress like one.  
  
So he decided to make a quick stop at the hat shop, opening the door and beginning to browse the wares they had to offer. Any stranger would take a look at him and believe he was too preoccupied to notice anything else but a potential purchase.  
  
But Macavity was very much alert, taking in his surroundings.  
  
A single clerk was working tonight, and not a particularly happy one at that. It was near closing time, and in addition to Macavity, one other customer was staying late and preventing the tabby from going home.  
  
The customer, a Turkish Angora, was simply unable to decide which color hat suited him best. He would try one on, stare at himself in the mirror, only to immediately grimace and put it back. This process repeated several times, much to the dismay of the clerk. Macavity normally wouldn't care, but the way the Angora groaned loudly in disapproval every single time was particularly obnoxious.  
  
He himself decided on a simple, classy black top hat, bringing it over to the register.  
  
"Good evening," Macavity greeted.  
  
"Good evening, sir. Did you find everything you needed?" The clerk asked politely, although the ginger cat could tell by his tone that he was hoping for a 'yes' or a 'yes'.  
  
"Yes. I did, thank you. I'll take this one." Macavity placed the new hat on the counter, before reaching into his coat pocket, handing over his payment (which was quite a bit more than the price tag of the hat).  
  
The weary clerk opened the register and picked out the change, placing them into Macavity's waiting paw. "Thank you very much, enjoy the rest of your night."  
  
Macavity casually counted out the coins, before pausing. "Oh, I seem to be coming up short."  
  
"Hm?" The tabby leaned slightly over the counter. "I beg your pardon, but I counted exact change, sir," He replied with certainty.  
  
Macavity shook his head, meeting his gaze. **"I'm afraid you misunderstand me,"** He informed him, his voice taking on a silky quality. **"I'm coming up short. You owe me fifty Jellicoins. Cheating an honest customer would surely mar the reputation of this fine establishment. Wouldn't you agree?"**  
  
The clerk's eyes glazed over.  
  
"Yes, of course," He mumbled, reaching back into the register. After taking out what was ordered, he sluggishly dropped the coins into Macavity's outstretched paw.  
  
Macavity smiled, pocketing the money and placing his new purchase on his own head. "You're very kind. Oh, and by the way, **that gentleman over there looks a bit suspicious. You might want to have a chat with him if your drawer is coming up short."** He tipped his hat to the clerk, and with that, he was on his way, the door shutting behind him.  
  
He intended to go straight to the pub, perhaps participate in a game of poker, but apparently tonight had other plans for him.  
  
He...sensed something. It sent a thrill through him, making his fur stand on end as if he had encountered static.  
  
Magic.  
  
It was close, and for the first time, it wasn't just radiating from his own body. But from someone else's.  
  
Who else but him could possibly command magic, let alone magic as strong as his own?  
  
He forgot all about visiting the Cat's Fiddle, making a detour through a narrow alleyway and coming out through the other side, where he could hear the voices of kittens giggling in delight.  
  
"Just one more trick, Quaxo! Please?"  
  
"Well...I suppose I have enough time for one more."  
  
And there was the source.  
  
A young tom barely out of kittenhood, and judging from his perfectly groomed appearance, one from a wealthy family. He was a tuxedo cat with striking silver eyes, and sported a black bow tie around his neck.  
  
Macavity allowed the shadows to obscure his form, hiding him from sight as he observed the show taking place in front of him.  
  
The cat called 'Quaxo' held up a beautiful red rose, showing it off for his little audience to see. He then picked up an empty hat, shaking it upside down to emphasize that it was, in fact, completely empty.  
  
He closed his eyes, waved his paw above the hat with a flourish, and upon reaching inside...  
  
...Pulled out a bouquet of flowers in a rainbow of colors, tied together with a sparkling silver ribbon.  
  
It was such a simple trick, one that could easily be dismissed as child's play, an illusion.  
  
But Macavity knew that whoever this cat was, what he had just done was no parlor trick.  
  
There was someone else in this world like him.  
  
_Present Day, 1998_  
  
Macavity stopped to rest at the riverbank, taking in the pitiful sight of his own filthy and matted appearance in the water's surface. How much time had passed since he had been freed from his stone prison? To the point where he had to familiarize himself with using his own limbs again? How could he have gone from being in control, to wandering hopelessly through these woods, forced to hunt like some feral beast?  
  
Repulsed, he drew away from his own reflection with a hiss, turning his attention to the massive oak in front of him. He could probably climb for a better view of his surroundings, though he also knew that following the river would eventually take him back to civilization.  
  
His thoughts was abruptly cut short as he was assaulted by a powerful sensation. It passed through him with a jolt, reacting to the magic that stirred in his own body, leaving him reeling.  
  
A powerful surge such as this one could only mean one thing, and he was drawn to it like a beacon.  
  
Mistoffelees.  
  
***  
  
"...And when she pulled back the curtain, she could hardly believe what she saw!" Old Deuteronomy read aloud from the storybook. Jemima sat on his lap, listening in suspense with wide eyes.  
  
"What happened next, Grandpa Dee?" She asked eagerly, with a little bounce.  
  
"She saw...hm?" He trailed off, the lights in the entire house flickering.  
  
"Hello? Dem?" He heard his son say from the kitchen, Munkustrap hanging up the phone shortly after and joining them in the living room.

"That was strange," Munkustrap mused. "They must have lost power. The electricity almost went out, too."  
  
Jemima pouted. "I wanted to tell Mom goodnight..."  
  
"Don't worry, we'll try again, and if that doesn't work we'll call her first thing in the morning," Munkustrap assured her.  
  
"I guess so..." The red and white kitten yawned like a cavern, holding out her arms so her father could scoop her up, always the little Daddy's girl.  
  
"...Dad? What's wrong?"  
  
"Oh?" Deuteronomy shook his fluffy head, realizing he had been lost in his own thoughts. He gave his son a reassuring smile. "Nothing, my son. Just a peculiar feeling...a slight burning in my chest and stomach.  
  
...Or that could also be the acid reflux acting up again." He rose from the armchair.  
  
After the second call to Demeter's hotel resulted in nothing but an endless dial tone, they both tucked Jemima into bed for the night. The glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling illuminated her room better than any nightlight could, and she snuggled beneath her blankets, clutching her doll close to her body.  
  
Even after Munkustrap turned in for the night, having finished correcting his students' papers, Deuteronomy found himself wandering over to the window, gazing out into the night.  
  
That was no power surge. It was a display of magic - raw, wild, and unrestrained. He'd felt it, just like on the night they met Misto.  
  
He knew without a doubt that it came from that mysterious young magician, who had been frozen in time from the days of Old Deuteronomy's youth. Their meeting had not been left to chance - fate had meant for Mr. Mistoffelees to cross paths with him and his family.  
  
He also knew, from the moment he cradled the music box in his paws, that the little magician was pure of heart. Deuteronomy trusted him.  
  
But that was not what worried him.  
  
Magic, he knew, worked in mysterious ways, far beyond the comprehension of those who weren't born with it.  
  
It could either be a blessing to it's user, or, as he'd unfortunately seen for himself...  
  
A curse.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new friend lends a paw. Macavity finds himself in the place where it all began, and makes a shocking discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “There is no such thing as accident; it is fate misnamed.”
> 
> \- Napoleon Bonaparte

That kiss was entirely on autopilot. Zero thoughts, only action.  
  
Tugger considered himself experienced in the realm of romance, even though Bomba was his first real 'serious' relationship.  
  
But right now, all of his experience went down the drain, reducing him to a petrified beginner on his first date. His heart was ready to explode out of his chest. And he was suddenly aware that the smaller cat had reached up to drape his arms around his fluffy shoulders.  
  
'He's kissing me back.' The gears of Tugger's mind, which moments ago had completely jammed in place, finally dislodged themselves. 'This is actually a thing that's happening right now, this is not a drill, oh fuck.'  
  
A series a sharp cracks followed by shattering glass surrounded them - the nearby street lamps exploding.  
  
With that outside noise, the world expanded beyond just the two of them once more.  
  
Misto was the first to pull back, startled by the commotion. But Tugger could only watch him with a dreamy smile on his face, not caring in the slightest about the confused reactions of the civilians.  
  
"Heaviside above...what did I just do...?" Misto groaned, ears back.  
  
"Hm...?" Tugger finally came out of his dreamy state, taking a look around at the damage. "Well, would you look at that. The whole city's out." He couldn't help but smirk. "I'm just THAT good, huh?"  
  
Misto's fuzzy black ears perked up, his mouth moving wordlessly for a moment. Tugger watched with growing interest as rosy bubbles materialized around them, the Maine coon popping one with a claw. "That's new."  
  
Misto gave him an indignant shove, but his body language was far from aggressive. "You...this is all your fault...!"  
  
"Oh, it SO is."  
  
"Wipe that smirk off your face."  
  
"Or what?" Tugger leaned down to his level, a teasing smile playing on his lips.  
  
Misto glared at him. And for a terrifying moment, Tugger thought that he misread 'bubbles' to mean something other than 'I am legitimately pissed off and want you gone'. That is, until he was grabbed and yanked forward for another kiss, the larger cat letting out a muffled yelp.  
  
That did, in fact, wipe the smirk off his face. Misto, however, looked satisfied, releasing him.  
  
"Don't think that you can just do whatever you want, and I'll go weak at the knees, Rum Tum Tugger," The magician informed him, adjusting the bow on his neck from its lopsided position.  
  
Tugger pouted. He got him good. He couldn't let him get away with that. "H-Hey, I do whatever I want, when I want," He retorted. "And if it gets THAT kind of reaction from you, maybe I don't need you to go weak at the knees."  
  
Misto smiled, but now seemed to be silently contemplating something to himself, his gaze distant.  
  
Somehow, for a cat whose emotions were literally out in the open, Misto always managed to puzzle him. Tugger waited in suspense, resting his paws against his belt.  
  
"I don't suppose you'd be against doing something like this again?" Misto asked, now looking out onto the ocean instead of at him.  
  
Relief washed over him. "Yeah, I would! I-I mean, no, I WOULDN'T be against that," Tugger corrected himself, much to the other's amusement.  
  
"Good." Misto's smile lit up his whole face, which was magical in itself. "I'm looking forward to it." He then let out a resigned sigh, taking a look around. "I can't leave the city like this, though."  
  
"Why not?" Tugger asked, leaning against a wooden post. "Let them take care of it. Besides, we can see everything just fine."  
  
"How can I call myself a magician if I can't clean up after my own messes? ...Even if it was partially your fault," He added.  
  
Tugger smirked. "Alright then. I'll stand here and be your audience. Or, even better, your lovely assistant."  
  
Misto rolled his eyes, before beginning to focus. Tugger waited with baited breath, his own tail flicking back and forth behind him.  
  
He'd seen Misto do some pretty incredible things.  
  
Something like restoring power to a city would be a cinch for him, right?  
  
Tugger watched with growing excitement as golden ribbons of energy materialized out of thin air. They surrounded Misto's small form in a mesmerizing display, his entire body giving off a warm glow. Tugger felt his fur begin to stand on end, as if responding to static electricity.  
  
The ribbons unraveled themselves, zipping off to different directions. The dazzling show had begun to attract the attention of the restaurants' customers and staff, some hurrying over to get a closer look.  
  
Any source of light too close to Misto had been destroyed beyond help, and the surrounding area remained dark.   
  
But farther out, the darkened city began to flicker back to life, little by little...  
  
The ribbons of light suddenly dissipated, the glowing aura around Misto abruptly fading. To Tugger's horror, the smaller cat swayed and began to fall.  
  
"Misto!" Tugger ran forward and caught him before he could hit the ground. "Misto, are you okay?! Hey...!"  
  
Hazy silver eyes met amber, "I just...need to rest a bit," The tuxedo cat mumbled, eyes drifting shut.  
  
Tugger cursed, gently gathering him into his arms, carrying him bridal style. He had no freaking clue how his magic worked, or that doing something like this would drain him that much.  
  
Should he bring him back to the inn? To the hospital? Maybe Misto just needed a comfortable place to rest. He had walked here, and had intended to walk back with Misto. But his date was now barely conscious. It would take too long, and he wanted to get him somewhere safe.  
  
A small crowd had gathered around, but no one was actively making a move to help, chattering among themselves. Which irritated Tugger to no end. "Alright, show's over, let me through so I can call a taxi!" He snapped.  
  
"I can give you a ride."  
  
Tugger's ears swiveled in response to the familiar voice, their waiter - no, Plato - carefully making his way through the crowd.  
  
"My shift is over in five minutes, they'll cover me," Plato assured him.  
  
So Tugger followed him to the parking lot, his stomach twisting with worry. When they got to the rusty old clunker that was Plato's car, Tugger gently eased Misto onto the backseat, sitting with him to watch over him.  
  
After a moment of contemplation, Tugger spoke. "Could you take us to the Jones' estate?"   
  
Plato nodded, "Yeah, I can get you there. I had no idea that's Victoria's brother," He added, much to Tugger's surprise. "She's told me so much already! And that magic...!" He turned the key to the ignition, the car sputtering in protest before finally starting.  
  
"You know Victoria Jones?" Tugger asked as they pulled out onto the street.  
  
Plato went oddly silent. "Yeah...we're uh...we're good friends," He mumbled.  
  
Tugger managed a sly smile, despite his concern for Misto. "You're sweet on her, aren't you?"  
  
"N-No!"  
  
"I think you are. Did you tell her yet?"  
  
"I'm not...she...it's not like that," Plato said, now focused intently on the road.  
  
Most would get the hint and drop it by now, but not Tugger.

This kid was going to lose out on something good if he didn't gather his courage and go for it.  
  
"Look, you seem like a great guy, and anyone can see that you're a hard worker," Tugger told him. "What's there to be afraid of? If she rejects you, she's not the one for you."  
  
"I'm not afraid to tell her," Plato insisted, his voice taking on a firm tone. "It's her family." He stopped at an interaction, gripping the steering wheel tightly in his paws. "Even if I confessed to her...would they approve? I don't have anything to offer her." He sighed.  
  
"...Ridiculous..."  
  
To the astonishment of both toms, Misto had straightened up from where he'd been resting against Tugger's fluff. 

"Don't be ridiculous," He continued. "Her family would want someone kind and considerate for their daughter...it's not all about money."  
  
Plato's posture relaxed only slightly. "Do you really think so?" He asked in a small voice, hopeful.  
  
"Yes, I do." Even after knowing the family for such a short time, Misto spoke with certainty.  
  
Tugger frowned. "Misto...are you feeling alright?"  
  
"Just a little tired." He sounded cheerful enough despite what happened, but Tugger could see that he was struggling to keep his eyes open.  
  
"I think I failed as your lovely assistant," The Maine Coon admitted.  
  
"Hmph. I suppose I could give you another chance," Misto mused. "Maybe even a chance to participate. I vaguely remember a trick I used to perform for an audience..."  
  
"Really? Do tell."  
  
"It involves great heights..."  
  
"Psh, easy."  
  
"...Throwing knives..."  
  
"Heh, nothing to worry about...!"  
  
"...And there may or may not have been a tank full of sharks..."  
  
"Oh! That's...uh...pretty intense...!"  
  
Misto shrugged. "Well, you did volunteer to be my assistant. That doesn't entail simply standing there looking attractive, while I do all the work, hm?" The twinkle came back into his eyes again.  
  
Tugger refused to be ruffled. "I can attract an audience with these looks alone, kitten. My musical talent is just the icing on the cake."  
  
Plato stifled a laugh.  
  
They arrived at the Jones' estate shortly after, the twins Tantomile and Coricopat meeting them in front.

Despite now being fully conscious, Misto was still physically very weak, and needed help getting out of the car. Nonetheless, he seemed to be in good spirits, thanking Plato for his help.  
  
Tugger's chest was tight with guilt as walked him to the front door. He couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible. "Get some rest tonight," He told him. "And go easy on the magic next time! You shouldn't push yourself so hard. Okay?"  
  
"Duly noted." Misto silenced him with an affectionate kiss on the cheek. "Good night, Tugger."  
  
Tugger reached up to lightly touch his own cheek, watching the magician smile over his shoulder as the servants guided him inside.  
  
Plato, being the kind soul that he was, offered to drive Tugger back to the inn, an offer he accepted. But this time, the Maine Coon was a lot less talkative, staring out the window.  
  
"...You really care about him, don't you?" Plato stopped at the crosswalk to allow a group of Pollicles cross the street.  
  
"Yeah...I think I do."  
  
It felt strange admitting that, about a cat he'd only known for a short while.  
  
And yet, those feelings were real.  
  
He knew he had to talk to Bomba about it. She probably wouldn't take him seriously.  
  
After all, he'd dated plenty of queens (and the occasional tom), and she'd seen others as well. But it was only in good fun, and they would either laugh about how badly the date went, or admit that it was actually decent. And once that was all said and done, they were back again.  
  
 _Drawn back into their dance._  
  
This was different, somehow. He didn't WANT this to be another fling, one that he'd sit back and think about fondly after it ended.  
  
He wanted something with Misto.  
  
What was that something?  
  
Stability? No...that wasn't it. The Rum Tum Tugger thrived on spontaneity. And Misto was quite spontaneous, even when he wasn't using magic. He kept Tugger guessing. He kept him on his toes.  
  
But...there was something deeper than that. Something he felt that day at Knollbrook after he'd saved Misto, and again today when they kissed.

And it was more powerful than any shiny magic trick that Misto could conjure.  
  
Plato dropped him off in front of the inn, Tugger thanking him again for helping them out.  
  
"And thank YOU for sticking up for me with that crazy customer," Plato told him with a chuckle. "She comes back every week, no matter what. We kind of just try to brace ourselves for it. 'The customer is always right', I guess."  
  
"'Customer always right' my ass," Tugger scoffed. "Guess Misto and I will just have to conveniently show up on a day she's there."  
  
Plato laughed, before a small smile came to his face. "I'll tell Victoria soon," He decided. "And her family. You both helped me to realize that I was overthinking things. If it's meant to happen, it will.   
And if it's not...well, then I can't say I missed out because I didn't try. Right?"  
  
"Right." Tugger grinned. "Good luck, kid."  
  
He watched Plato drive away, deciding that he needed some time to clear his head before turning in for the night. There was a lot he needed to think about, especially before he talked to Bomba about Misto.  
  
He knew one thing for sure.  
  
Whatever this was, and wherever it decided to take him, he was going to see it through.  
  
***  
  
Nightfall had shielded Macavity with its cloak, feeding his power, ensuring that even a cat with the keenest eye couldn't detect him.  
  
He moved as a shadow, slinking along the alleyways. If a Jellicle did sense him as he passed, he was no more than a ghost-like presence, and they continued on their way, thinking little of it.  
  
A blaring horn startled him, his red coat flaring brightly as he lost his grip on the dark veil for a split second.  
  
But just as quickly as he revealed himself, he melted back into the dark once more.  
  
'What in the name of...' The more he stopped to take in the sights, the more he was thrown off.  
  
This WAS St. James Town.

And yet...something was terribly wrong.

These hulking metal vehicles were nothing like the automobiles of his time. There were many buildings he did not recognize, each stranger than the last, some constructed entirely of some kind of sleek metal.  
  
With each passerby, he began to catch onto their foreign sense of fashion. One Jellicle was practically naked as she passed, her arms and legs completely exposed. And yet, everyone around her was completely unfazed.  
  
A dumpster sitting against the nearest store caught Macavity's attention, a folded up paper draped over the side. He snatched it, green eyes scanning the pages, searching...and finding the date.  
  
'September 13th, 1998'  
  
He found himself gripping the pages so tightly that his claws tore into the paper.  
  
That stone prison had done more than trap him, alone and powerless...  
  
It had also robbed him of something even more precious.  
  
Time.  
  
Almost a century of it.  
  
Reeling, Macavity allowed himself a moment to let the gravity of his situation take hold. He leaned heavily against the dirty brick wall.  
  
'Mistoffelees...Quaxo. You'll be long dead by now.'  
  
As much as those names fueled the rage and bitterness inside him...something else gripped him in that moment, clenching a cold hand around his heart.  
  
'No.’ Macavity stopped himself there. Despair led to weakness, and weakness led to stupid decisions and bad judgement.  
  
That sudden flare up of magical power...a pure form of energy that he had once believe to only exist in himself...he had FELT it.  
  
He was certain of it!  
  
Mistoffelees WAS alive. And most likely in a similar predicament to his own.  
  
Having composed himself, Macavity pushed back against the wall and continued on his way.  
  
He passed a small park, a welcome sight of green among the industrialized city. A long time ago, in his kittenhood, he would play in a similar park with his younger brother.  
  
They only had a small window of time to be normal kittens, he and Ronnie.  
  
That wonderful time of day where the sharp knives of the sun faded into twilight, allowing night to bring him much needed relief.  
  
But Ronnie could never play for long. A growing kitten needed sleep, and he was always ushered to bed by their mother far too soon.  
  
Ronnie, young and innocent, couldn't understand why Macavity hid so much during the day. He would pester his older brother, over and over, prod him, talk to him, try to get him to play some more.  
  
'It's daytime, Mac! Get up and play with me!'  
  
 _Leave me alone...go away...it hurts too bad._  
  
'Come on, Mac!'  
  
 _I said LEAVE!_  
  
After one particular incident that left Ronnie screaming in pain and bleeding, the two were promptly separated. 

Things were never quite the same after that. Even their twilight playtime had ceased, whether from Ronnie's own fear or by their mother's insistence.  
  
 _Dangerous._  
  
 _Feral._  
  
 _Monster._  
  
Macavity didn't cling to the memory, instead letting it drift to the back of his mind.

He didn't need either of them. The last time the brothers had spoken, it was to tell Macavity that their mother had passed away.  
  
Good, he'd said.   
  
And now, Ronnie was also deceased, lost to the decay of time or some other reason unknown to him.  
  
Good.  
  
He passed a lone figure sitting on an iron bench.  
  
At first, he paid no mind to the stranger, but a long sigh caught his attention. Macavity found himself drawn closer, hidden behind the cover of an oak tree.  
  
"We can't get all hung up on the past. It's not good for either of us."  
  
The idiot was talking to himself, but Macavity could care less about what he was saying. His own instinct was trying to tell him something.  
  
He silently moved from one tree to another, focused intently on the cat.  
  
A Maine Coon...with a thick mane of fur that trailed down into a spotted chest

And amber eyes, the same eyes as - !  
  
He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.  
  
He was looking into the eyes of his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a long time coming, but I hope it was worth the wait! 
> 
> Thank you Akucrisp as always for being my beta reader - this fic wouldn’t even exist without you! 
> 
> My readers here on Ao3 and Tumblr - you guys are wonderful, thank you for reading and commenting on my work, love you all! ❤️


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tugger resolves to move forward, unaware of the dark shadow following his every step. The longer Misto spends at the Jones' estate, the more his memories trickle back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A content warning just to be safe: The end of this chapter contains themes of physical and emotional abuse. Please proceed with this in mind.

There wasn't a single doubt in his mind.  
  
A part of his brother still remained in this changed world. And he was right here in front of him.  
  
Of course, he had no intention of revealing himself to this cat, regardless of their connection to one another. Macavity learned on the streets that one gained little from a hasty encounter with a stranger.  
  
It was much better to be patient and bide one's time.  
  
Learn about them first, before they could learn too much about you.  
  
When the Maine Coon pushed off the bench with a determined look in his eyes, Macavity trailed behind him.  
  
Cloaked in darkness once more, he matched his pace, mirroring his steps. They followed the sidewalk, towards a destination unknown to Macavity.  
  
Only once did his target stop in his tracks. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
  
But the Maine coon looked right through him, seeing nothing but empty space.  
He shrugged and continued on.  
  
Macavity found himself increasingly frustrated with his weakened state. It would be much easier to take control of the other's mind, and force him to tell him anything he wanted to know.  
  
Then, he could simply leave him with no memory of what happened.  
  
Unfortunately, even controlling that helpless rabbit had been a struggle. The minds of Jellicles like him were much more difficult to overpower, and that ability required him to be at his peak strength.  
  
Which, at the moment, he wasn't.  
  
Their destination turned out to be a building that much less imposing than some of the metallic structures that surrounded it. Rich blue paint complimented the white windows and balconies that lined each floor, lending it a distinctive nautical style.  
  
Some sort of apartment building, Macavity guessed. Or an inn.  
  
He stopped tracking the Maine coon once he saw him open the door to the front lobby. The inside of the building was still brightly lit, and would give him away almost immediately if he followed him inside.  
  
He had to take a different approach.  
  
Macavity crept to the back of the building, looking up. There were about four floors, each with their own balcony. Drawing in a deep breath, he called his power forth, feeling it awaken within his chest.  
  
He willed the magic through each of his limbs, urging his body to become lighter, to shed the weight keeping him grounded.  
  
Then, he pushed off the pavement, taking to the air.  
  
After a graceful landing on railing of the first floor's balcony, Macavity walked along the narrow ledge...listening to the sounds within each suite.  
  
From one, he could hear snoring that was loud enough to shake the walls.  
  
From another, a child crying, a mother singing a soothing lullaby.  
  
The noise within next room was much stranger. Leaning in close, he could make out the sound of roaring applause as if from a great distance. He didn't allow himself to give in to curiosity. He continued his search. One room, then another...then another.  
  
A door suddenly opened overhead, light spilling out from the balcony a floor above him.  
  
Macavity waited. Hushed voices reached his ears. One of the them belonged to the cat he followed here. The other, the silky voice of a queen.  
  
"...different, Bomba. I'm serious about this one."  
  
"Tugger, come on. You've barely known him for a week." A soft chuckle. "Don't you think you're getting a little ahead of yourself? How can you be so sure?"  
  
"You're right, it hasn't been that long," Was the earnest reply, from the cat named 'Tugger'.  
  
...Apparently, unusual and occasionally ridiculous names carried down the family tree.  
  
It was the one thing he'd been thankful to his mother for, that she didn't give him a name as easily butchered as his brother's.  
  
"...But I've never been more sure of anything in my life."  
  
A tense silence hung in the air, but Macavity could care less for the vapid nature of this conversation. He'd only chased him for the sake of learning more about this cat's identity, not his relationship issues.  
  
The queen was the first to break the silence.  
  
"All I'm trying to say, is that I've never known you to settle for anyone, or anything. Then, this magician appears out of nowhere, and suddenly everything's new and exciting. You're instantly starstruck..."  
  
_Magician...?!_  
  
Macavity's head snapped up.  
  
"I get it, I really do. But you need to slow down and think for a minute before you decide that you've found your mate. Or you'll set yourself up for disappointment."  
  
"You seem awfully sure that I'm going to drop him the second I get bored. Actually, it sounds like you're hoping for it."  
  
"No, it's because this is a pattern with you.”  
Her voice was tight. There was a lingering bitterness there, from something that took place long before this conversation.  
  
But all Macavity cared about was that “magician” she mentioned.  
  
It couldn't be him.  
  
What were the chances of such a thing?  
  
"You're always chasing your next high, no matter what you do in life," She went on.“You buy a new motorcycle once you get tired of your old one, even if there's nothing wrong with it.

You can never finish an album because you're always in a hurry to start the next one.

And you can never commit to a 'serious' relationship because you're afraid of what happens once the heat becomes lukewarm."  
  
A pause.  
  
"Tch. You just know me SO well, don't you?"  
  
"Yes, as a matter of fact. I do. He doesn't, not yet."  
  
"He will. I'll give him the chance to. And maybe he won't see the worst in me, like you always did. And you know what else? I - "  
  
"WILL BOTH OF YOU SHUT YOUR TRAPS?"  
  
The door directly in front of Macavity had swung open, revealing a hunched old Pollicle in his pajamas - with sagging features, and stringy fur. "Some of us here are trying to sleep! Cats...they always think they own the place..." The Pollicle trailed off...sniffing the air.  
  
Macavity didn't linger, jumping off the building to land soundlessly in a crouch. 'Tugger' and 'Bomba' retreated back inside shortly after..  
  
He knew what he had to do.  
  
Mistoffelees.  
  
Macavity’s power was a tamed beast, under his control, as long as he didn't push it to his limit.  
  
But the other's magic...it was wild, a feral creature trying to tear from its cage.  
  
He knew this, because he'd helped teach him how to harness it.  
  
And he wouldn't take the risk of having it used against him.  
  
Instead, he would see how these cats were all connected to one another.  
  
He would wait, and he would learn.  
  
But he knew one thing.  
  
'You may be my kin, Tugger...  
  
But if it's him you're talking about...you can't have him.  
  
Because in spite of everything, he's mine.'  
  
***  
  
Misto woke to the sun's golden rays peeking in through the curtains of his bedroom.  
  
Groggy, the tuxedo cat yawned like a cavern, stretching his arms above his head. A good night's sleep had done the trick - he felt invigorated.  
  
A mouth-watering smell wafted towards him. Much to his surprise, a serving tray had been placed on his bedside table...covered with all kinds of delicious foods for breakfast. Everything was still steaming hot, even the tea.  
  
As he busied himself spreading preserves and clotted cream on the freshly baked scone, Misto's thoughts returned to last night. The way Tugger had looked at him...and the way he had kissed him.  
  
He couldn't lie to himself, it was worth inconveniencing the entire city.  
  
Absolutely worth it.  
  
He let out a dreamy sigh. He couldn't keep accepting so much from Tugger without offering him something in return. But...what could he possibly give him?  
  
As Misto took a bite of the scone, the taste of sweet summer berries sparked something.  
  
_'Mother, what are you making?'_  
  
_'Berry tarts! Would you like to help?' He was scooped up from the ground and placed onto the counter, legs dangling off the edge._  
  
_'Making yer famous tarts, Lissie?' His father's booming voice asked, the portly cat limping into the kitchen. 'Quaxo, yer mother's a beauty, with a good head on 'er shoulders...but you know what REALLY made me fall in love...?"_  
  
_"What?"_  
  
_"These tarts!"_  
  
_"Oh, Kat." His mother rolled her eyes, hiding a smile with a paw._  
  
_"Alright alright. But there's some truth to it, the quickest way to a tom's heart’s through his stomach!"_  
  
Misto had paused mid-bite, now looking at his scone thoughtfully. "Hm..."  
  
A smile lit up his face, the magician shoveling down the rest of his breakfast and leaping out of bed. He found his clothes in the bathroom, already cleaned and pressed.  
  
Changing out of the simple nightgown, he wasted no time washing up and getting dressed, hurrying off to find the kitchens.  
  
Coricopat was already there cleaning, his twin sister off tending to their other duties.

Seeing the kitchen already spotless made Misto feel a bit guilty for his request.  
  
The slender tom looked up in surprise when he came in, smiling. "Good morning, Mistoffelees. You look much better today!"  
  
"I feel much better," Misto said. "Thank you for breakfast, it was delicious...but there's something I wanted to ask you."  
  
Coricopat was completely baffled when Misto asked to use the kitchen for a little while, even more so when the tuxedo cat promised to clean up after himself. He attempted to convince Misto to let him prepare whatever he wanted to eat.  
  
But Misto only shook his head.  
  
"That's generous of you, but this is a gift. I have to make it myself."  
  
And so, Coricopat showed him where everything was stored in the massive kitchen. This included baking utensils of all shapes and sizes, along with a Lazy Susan fully stocked with an impressive assortment of exotic seasonings and spices.  
  
Once Coricopat left the room, Misto eagerly rubbed his paws together, setting to work.  
  
Pleased to find fresh berries stored in the refrigerator, Misto took out each ingredient and arranged them on the countertop.  
  
His paws seemed to move on their own as he prepared the dough for the crusts, humming to himself.  
  
"Good morning, Misto!" Victoria's fluffy white head peeked into the doorway once he'd started blending the cream filling. "What are you making?"  
  
"Mini tarts with berries and cream." He dipped a single claw to taste it, before grimacing and adding more sugar.

Everything was better with more sugar. 

"And you’ll get to try one. So, paws off my ingredients," He chided, whacking her lightly with a wooden spoon when she tried to sneak a single raspberry.  
  
Victoria pouted. "So how did the date go last night?" She asked, leaning against the counter.  
  
"It went...very well." Misto looked away with a shy smile. "I figured I'd make him something to show my thanks. Hopefully he likes sweets."  
  
He meticulously arranged the berries on each tart once he'd filled them with cream.

After all, they had to be presentable, not just delicious.

He and Victoria rewarded themselves with a single tart each, the white queen's eyes going wide as soon as she took a bite.  
  
"Misto...these are the best tarts I've ever had," She told him. "He's going to go CRAZY over these."  
  
"They are pretty good, aren't they." Misto swelled with pride. His smile faded a bit when he picked up on a metallic odor, the pressure in the air...tighter. "Do you feel that?"  
  
Victoria nodded, delicately licking the residual cream off her paws. "It's going to start raining, soon."  
  
Shrugging, Misto stepped back to admire his work. "There's just one more thing I need. Could you help me find a box?"  
  
Victoria found a plain box in her mother's sewing room, bringing it to him, along with a silky ribbon.

Misto carefully arranged the desserts inside, cupping his chin thoughtfully. "Needs a little something..."  
  
He waved a paw over the box once...glitter raining down in response to his silent command.

The plain ribbon transformed, now shimmering and catching the light as if made from stardust.  
  
Victoria congratulated him, but a crack of thunder drowned out her words, rain pelting against the mansion's windows.  
  
And in that moment, Misto was thrown back to the past, swept up into a memory that had since lay dormant in his mind.  
  
_'How DARE you embarrass me in front of our guests!'_  
  
_Claws dug into his arm in an iron grip as he was dragged into the next room._

_He stumbled, having no choice to follow his stepfather, or get his arm ripped out of its socket._  
  
_Outside, the rain came in sheets with each violent gust of wind._  
  
_'Your father may have let you run wild in the house with that magic, but not me. No, not me."_

_He all but flung Quaxo into the room, sending him sprawling. The carpet below him thankfully softened his fall._  
  
_Rubbing his arm where there would undoubtedly be a new bruise later, Quaxo got back to his feet.  
_

_He wasn’t sure what had possessed him in that moment.  
  
Maybe it was the pigheadedness of pirate's blood. _  
  
_Or maybe he was just nearing his limit._  
  
_But he turned to face his stepfather, his pupils narrowed to slits. "My magic is a part of me. You're asking me to give up who I am."_  
  
_His stepfather paused, not expecting this new defiance. But his surprise was short lived, features twisting with rage._

_"I'm not asking._ _I forbid you from using that magic. You'll be a proper gentleman, not some freak of nature. Are we clear?"_  
  
_Quaxo simply glared at him._  
  
_As his stepfather stormed forward, raising his arm, lightning struck a tree outside their window with an ear-splitting crack._  
  
_The flash had lasted a mere second, but Quaxo felt the unrestrained power of that single bolt of lightning._  
  
_A force of nature, beautiful but deadly._  
  
_And that same power lived within him._


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tugger's dreary day is brightened by one magical cat. Plato decides to take the plunge. Macavity recalls the night things changed forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hanukkah to my Jewish readers! I hope you all have a wonderful holiday full of light, family, and good food! 
> 
> It has been a bit of a wait, but here is Chapter 10! 
> 
> Some disturbing imagery at the end, so please be wary of that before continuing. 
> 
> Love you guys! <3

_‘...You can never commit to a 'serious' relationship because you're afraid of what happens once the heat becomes lukewarm.'_  
  
Bomba's words played on repeat over again in his brain, all night long, keeping him awake.  
  
The next morning, Tugger groomed himself with much less enthusiasm, settling for merely 'good-looking' when he gazed into the mirror, instead of the usual 'exceedingly gorgeous.'.  
  
With heavy sigh, he left the hotel and aimlessly made his way down the sidewalk.  
A crushed soda can lay on its side in his path, and he gave it a half-hearted kick. Despite the sunny morning, Tugger could feel the static and tightness of the air around him, making his silky fur stand on end.  
  
But he had more important things on his mind than the impending rain.  
  
'What's up with you, Bomba? That was a low blow.' He thought, slowing his pace when he noticed a street drummer that had settled in the town square.  
  
The Pollicle's long ears flopped with every movement, eyes closed in concentration as his arms moved in a blur. He struck each overturned plastic bucket in a mesmerizing series of beats.  
  
'Damn. I've seen drummers with fancy sets that don't have a fraction of the skill this guy has with his buckets,' He thought to himself, pausing to admire the chaotic yet satisfying performance.  
  
Music always made him feel better. Especially music this wild, this unrestrained...passionate.  
  
It made him wish he had his guitar right about now. He'd probably ask to join him.  
  
He lingered a few moments longer, before reaching into his pocket and dropping a generous amount of Jellicoins into the empty donation hat.  
  
As he continued on his way, the frantic drumming receded, and in its wake, a clap of thunder.  
  
'Ah, crap,' Tugger thought to himself as he attempted to hail down a taxi. 'Maybe I can beat the rain.'  
  
Of course, as soon as he thought that, the sky opened up and emptied itself onto his head.  
  
By the time the taxi pulled over to pick him up, he had already resigned himself to this day, grunting a reply to the driver's observation ("Shoulda brought an umbrella, eh, buddy?").  
  
As soon as he stepped into the manor the butler twins offered him some fluffy towels, his mane completely soaked and dripping a puddle onto the marble floor.  
  
Outside, the storm raged on.  
  
"Tugger!"  
  
Misto hurried into the room, carrying a curiously sparkling box with him. "You're drenched! Come over to sit by the fire," He said, already leading him into the next room over.  
He stepped onto a round woven rug, where a cozy sofa and armchair were positioned in the perfect spot to enjoy the heat of the stone fireplace...relief from a cold, dreary day such as this one.  
  
Tugger allowed Misto to usher him over to the sofa, the tuxedo cat helping him dry off his mane almost dotingly. "You didn't have to come and get yourself soaked on my account, Tugger."  
  
"Did I have to? No. I wanted to," Tugger said outright, relishing the feeling of the heat warming his mane, his eyes closing in contentment. The crackling and occasional pop of the burning logs was soothing to him, a low purr rumbling in his chest. He could stay here forever, with Misto.  
  
When Misto suddenly paused in the middle of drying him off, Tugger opened one amber eye. "Something bothering you, kitten?"  
  
Misto's expression was unreadable.  
  
"The longer I stay here, the faster my memories return to me," He explained. "There was one from today, and this one in particular...disturbed me. I couldn't remember the entire thing...it was so brief. But..."  
  
"Hm...?"  
  
Those striking eyes met his own.  
  
"Tugger." His voice, while firm, also held a pleading edge to it. "If I wasn't the cat you thought I was...would you still care for me the way you do now?"  
  
Huh?  
  
Tugger gave him a wry smile. "Who else would you be? ....Quaxo?"  
  
Misto's gaze drifted to the side. "Well, not exactly. More like, someone who is capable of...terrifying things. Someone to be wary of."  
A pause, then a soft chuckle escaped him. "I'm sorry...forget I said anything. I shouldn't - "  
  
He never got to finish that sentence, because Tugger gently cupped his face in his paws, turning him towards him to capture his lips in a tender kiss.  
  
"I'm gonna stop you right there," The Maine Coon informed him. "Because I like what I see, inside and out, and that's not about to change. No matter what kind of cat Quaxo might have been."  
  
"Really...?"  
  
"Really." Tugger smirked. "Besides, you being terrifyingly magical is also part of the appeal. I wouldn't mind seeing what you're capable of."  
  
Misto's soft expression became devilish. "Don't think I forgot about your offer to be my assistant. You might regret that promise."  
  
"Really now? Try me."  
  
"We'll see. But first, there's something I wanted to ask you," Misto went on. "I'm not the only one with something on my mind. You seem...distracted today. Not your usual flashy self."  
  
Damn, those eyes could just see right through him, couldn't they?  
  
"It's just...uh..."  
  
Did Misto 'really' need to hear about his drama with Bomba?  
  
Would he become suspicious of him if he heard her side of it, and reconsider moving forward with their relationship?  
  
_'You're always chasing your next high, no matter what you do in life.'  
  
'Tch, you just know me so well, don't you?'_  
  
_'He doesn't.'_  
  
_'Not yet.'_  
  
"I uh, couldn't help but notice that sparkly box you got there," Tugger blurted out instead, gesturing to the box that Misto had absentmindedly placed on the coffee table.  
  
The distraction worked, because Misto's inquiring expression immediately became flustered. "Oh! That's just...er..." He scratched at one ear, before reaching over to slide it towards him. "It's yours."  
  
Tugger blinked. "For me? Really?" He carefully picked it up and held it in his paws.  
  
It was awfully cute. At first he thought it was simply covered in glitter, but there was something about the way it caught the light that told him that it was some kind of enchantment, courtesy of Misto here.  
  
He was a sucker for anything shiny, which is exactly how he met Misto in the first place. He could totally keep all his fur care products in here, instead of having them all scattered about in his drawer. "I love it!"  
  
"...Ah. That's wonderful news. But I was actually hoping you would OPEN the box."  
  
"There's more?!"  
  
"Naturally."  
  
Grinning like a kitten in a candy store, Tugger opened the box.  
  
It was like a picture out of a magazine. Two rows of tarts, each one filled to the brim with a sweet cream, fresh berries carefully arranged on top.  
  
Taking one tart delicately in two claws, he took a huge bite...and immediately froze.  
  
'"...What? What is it?"  
  
"This. Is the best thing I've ever tasted. In my entire life," Tugger whispered.  
  
And he meant it.  
  
It was so freaking good that his taste buds died, went to Heaviside, and were immediately resurrected so we could take another bite. "Mm..."  
  
They were delicately sweet, but not overpowering - and the berries complimented the cream perfectly. The crust was light and flaky, not soggy or dry like those cheap pastries at the store.  
  
Misto let out a long sigh of relief while Tugger wasted no time in devouring another. "I didn't know you could bake, Misto!"  
  
"Neither did I, until about an hour ago."  
  
Tugger finished his second helping, licking his lips in satisfaction. He looked down at the box and its contents once more...a soft smile coming to his face. "This is really great, Misto. Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome. I...I like you a lot, Tugger. It was the least I could do. You know, after everything you've done."  
  
Tugger let those words sink in, closing the lid on the glittering box. He was never one for long conversations. Rather, he was the kind of cat that let his actions speak for themselves.  
  
What he was feeling right now couldn't exactly be unpacked in the form of some long, sappy talk, either.  
  
Instead, he reached out and put an arm around Misto, pulling him close.  
  
The other leaned into the embrace, resting against his fluff (not caring in the slightest that it was still slightly damp).  
  
Misto, it seemed, was just fine with his lack of conversation, the two silently basking in the fire's warmth, in each other's presence.  
  
They could have spent an eternity like this. But Misto's ears swiveled, picking up on a sound that Tugger didn't catch due to the rain against the window.  
  
"It looks like someone is here to visit," Misto informed him. "It sounds like...Plato?"  
  
"Plato?" Tugger blinked, and realization hit him. "The kid's actually gonna do it, isn't he? I knew he had it in him! Should we...you know...hm?" He jerked his head towards the door with a sly smile.  
  
Misto sat up, crossing his arms. "Of course we shouldn't. Eavesdropping on someone's personal conversation? That would be improper."  
  
"..."  
  
"..."  
  
They sprang up in unison, practically tripping over each other in their haste to get to the door, leaning in close.  
  
"I can't hear anything," Tugger complained, straining his ears to catch the hushed voices.   
  
"Shh! Let's get closer...!"  
  
Together they crept across the hallway to the parlor, where Plato and Victoria had decided to have their conversation. Fortunately, the door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light shining through.  
  
"I mean...what I'm trying to say, is...we've been friends for a long time," Plato was saying, Tugger picking up on the anxiety in his voice. "And, while I don't want anything to get in the way of that..."  
  
_'Come on kid...you got this...you just gotta take the plunge...!'_  
  
"I would like us to be more than that. If it's okay with you, that is. I-If not, then that's fine! I mean, I wouldn't be against us just staying - " He stopped all too abruptly. Tugger and Misto exchanged concerned glances.  
  
"Plato..." Came the gentle reply.  
  
...I've wanted that for a long time. To be more than friends."  
  
"You...You have?"  
  
"Mm-hm."  
  
Another long pause. This time, when he turned to Misto, the tuxedo gave him an excited nod before listening intently again.  
  
"Whew...what a relief...!" Plato was clearly much more confident than when he started. "Now the only thing that would make this day better is if your family approves...!"  
  
"There's no need for that, my dear boy!" A voice boomed from behind them, Tugger and Misto nearly leaping out of their skins as two more eavesdroppers hurried past them into the parlor, the door swinging wide open.  
  
Victoria gaped when she saw the audience made up of Tugger, her adoptive brother, and BOTH her parents. "Were...you ALL listening to this?"  
  
There were a few awkward shuffles and mumbles of affirmation, but Tugger gave Plato a playful smack on the back, shameless. "Not so hard, was it?"  
  
Plato was clearly on Cloud Nine, rubbing the back of his head, "You were right. Thanks, Tugger. -Ack!"  
  
Jenny had gathered the young tom in a crushing hug (which was surprising for her small size compared to his towering height). "How could you be worried that we wouldn't approve?! We're delighted to have such a sweet boy dating our Victoria!"  
  
Bustopher leaned on his cane with a hearty laugh, going on about how this reminded him of his plea to Jenny's father for approval.  
  
But Tugger only had eyes for one cat right now. In a subtle movement that went unnoticed by the others, he took Misto's paw in his own, the gesture returned with a small squeeze.  
  
And that was all he needed.  
  
The storm outside was long forgotten by the occupants of Jones' Manor, who spent the next few hours warmed by the fireside among good company.  
  
While miles away, a lone figure took shelter from the rain in the cover of an abandoned mill house, reminiscing of a night just like this one. A night in which the storm wasn't the only thing that had displayed its rage.

***

  
_St. James Town, 1889_  
  
"Quaxo. Look at me."  
  
"..."  
  
"I said, look at me."  
  
Macavity grasped the young one's shoulders, forcing him to turn away from the stiff figure that lay motionless on the floor. The odor of scorched fur still clung to the air.  
  
Quaxo lifted his head, Macavity noting his blank gaze. A feeling of detachment was to be expected after experiencing such a thing.  
  
A sensation of numbness, of being disconnected from one's body. It reminded him of the night he'd encountered a ruffian in an alleyway, whose intent was to harm him.  
  
Macavity was a kitten. It had been his first kill.  
  
...Or, maybe HIS first kill wasn't the way to describe it.  
  
After all, he'd looked his assailant squarely in the eye, and ordered him to "die".  
  
And the thug did the dirty work himself, by taking a rusty blade to his own throat.  
  
With Quaxo's attention now focused on him, Macavity bent down to his level.  
  
"Listen to me," He hissed. "He will never, ever hurt you again. You've done nothing wrong - you only defended yourself. Understand?"  
  
A nod, barely perceptible.  
  
"Good. Now go sit down, over there. I'm going to clean this up, and it will be as if it never happened."  
  
The young tuxedo cat silently obliged, leaving Macavity to tend to the task at hand.  
  
There, a few feet away from him, lay the body of Ambrose, second husband to the late Felicity Morgan, stepfather to Quaxo Morgan, and heir to the Morgan Estate.  
  
Patches of grey fur were missing, revealing the splotchy, blackened skin beneath. Sightless eyes gazed up at the ceiling, frozen in an expression of disbelief.  
  
...He had been killed by a single magical bolt of electricity to the heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a simple woman, I write self-indulgent fluff, then promptly stomp on everyone's good mood at the end. You're welcome. :P


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In another time and place, Macavity helps an orphaned magician rise to fame.

_Fletcher Theater, 1891_  
  
It was a larger turnout than he'd expected.  
  
Even from their position backstage, the cacophony of noise still reached them - hundreds of voices conversing with one another, the orchestra tuning their instruments.  
  
While Macavity longed for silence, he would just have to endure it.  
  
Because tonight was important.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen! Pekes, Pollicles, and Jellicles!" The announcer's voice boomed from the stage, hushing the commotion surrounding them. "Thank you all for joining us on this lovely evening! Prepare yourselves for the performance of a lifetime...!"  
  
"Are you nervous?" He couldn't help but ask.  
  
"...'Nervous?'"  
  
The tuxedo cat's lips quirked into a smile. Silver eyes gleamed in the darkness.  
"Who do you think you're talking to?"  
  
...That little show pony.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen! Pekes, Pollicles, and Jellicles!" The announcer's voice boomed from the stage, hushing the rest of the commotion surrounding them. "Thank you all for joining us on this lovely evening! Prepare yourselves for the performance of a lifetime..."  
  
The young tom took a moment to adjust his jacket. He drew in a deep breath in through his nose, and out through his mouth. With that exhale, Macavity watched the slender cat's form glow ever so slightly.  
  
It was not so much of a calming gesture, as it was sharpening his focus...to prepare the magic that stirred within, itching to be released.  
  
"...The Original Conjuring Cat, the Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!"  
  
Casting one last impish glance in Macavity's direction, Mr. Mistoffelees strode forward onto the stage, the crowd erupting in cheers and applause.  
  
Macavity took the opportunity to melt into the darkness, slinking into the distracted crowd.  
  
Tonight was a new moon, which meant that the light that always brought Macavity so much grief was hidden. He felt stronger, lighter - the pressure bearing down on his body had vanished.  
  
Green eyes surveyed each member of the audience.  
  
'Only the ones that can spare it,' Mistoffelees had requested. 'No one that seems impoverished.'  
  
And so he began.  
  
One Siamese carried a golden pocket watch safely tucked away in his waistcoat. In one swift motion, a shadowy claw reached out and snatched it.  
  
A few seats away, two young calico chattered to one another, going on and on about how adorable Mr. Mistoffelees was. Their lavish gowns rustled with each movement.  
  
Stalking around them, he waited until they turned their attention back to the show...pilfering one reticule, then the other.  
  
All excellent finds - money, a jewel-encrusted brush, and a pocket mirror made of sterling silver, engraved with a filigree design.  
  
The handkerchiefs he left behind.  
  
"Presto!"  
  
Macavity turned. He wasn't quite finished yet, but the figure dancing across the stage had managed to draw him in, just like the others.  
  
This...was not the same cat he'd met a year ago.  
  
He recalled that lonely, melancholic creature sitting alone in the rose gardens, the one that would perform little tricks to entertain the kittens from the alleyways.  
  
The one that had willingly followed him after the death of his stepfather, shedding the baggage of his old life and beginning with a clean slate...despite the blood on his paws.  
  
_"Don't call me Quaxo from now on,"_ He'd told him, days after they left St. James Town behind. _"From now on, I will go by 'Mistoffelees.’”_  
  
_"’Mistoffelees?’ Interesting choice. Also has some similarities to the demon, Mephistoples, who was cast out of the Heaviside Layer alongside Lucifer. Are you certain you want to be associated with such things?"_  
  
_"Only a demon is capable of doing what I can do."_  
  
_"You're being cruel to yourself."_  
  
_"No, don't misunderstand me, Mac. I'm embracing this. For the first time in my life I'm choosing not to hide who I am. And if, by my stepfather's standards, that's something evil and shameful, then so be it._ "  
  
And he had meant it.  
  
For not a single trace of shame or fear was evident in the cat onstage. He danced around with a natural grace, with a lightness that rivaled even the most athletic of cats. 

The magician's eyes were alight with a joy that Macavity couldn't comprehend, as he summoned the light from each candle in the room to his waiting paws, gasps sounding from the crowd.  
  
Mistoffelees leaned forward with a secret smile, delicately blowing onto the sphere of light...which promptly exploded into hundreds of glittering butterflies, fluttering around the heads of the theatergoers.  
  
_'You've come a long way since then, Mistoffelees,”_ Macavity thought to himself, transfixed. He was aware of a strange new sensation in his chest, one that swelled the longer he watched Mistoffelees prance about the stage, the magician enraptured in his own magical power.  
  
Macavity shook his head, firmly reminding himself not to become distracted, since there wasn't much time until the show ended. He was just about to move onto the next target when something shiny caught his eye.  
  
An elderly cat, a pitiful, bedraggled thing with matted fur. His robe was shoddily patched up in various places.  
  
Homeless, without a doubt, and yet chose to spend his time watching a show. There was a look of wistful yearning as he watched Mistoffelees perform...rheumy eyes welling up with tears.   
  
But Macavity was more interested in the old worn satchel he clutched close to his chest. Because, through the tiny holes in the satchel, something gleamed.  
  
'What do we have here...?'  
  
While he remembered what Mistoffelees had said...Macavity wanted to know what this cat was protecting, and why he was holding it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.  
  
And Mistoffelees didn't have to know.  
  
Macavity made his move, creeping in closer to the frail cat, whose trembling paws still held the satchel protectively.  
  
It would be an easy task to simply snatch it from him and make a run for it. But Macavity wasn't one for causing a scene, nor making a mess...especially during this particular show.  
  
A sharp crack sounded from the stage, followed by a series of small flashes, the crowd cheering. The elderly cat smiled, releasing the satchel briefly to clap...  
  
...Giving Macavity his chance. Lifting the flap of the satchel, the shadowy form reached inside, feeling a round, metallic object with ridges along its surface. Removing it from the satchel, he grasped it tightly in his claws.  
  
The show concluded with a roaring applause, the crowd rising to their feet in unison. While Macavity slipped away into the night, awaiting his protege.  
  
Storing away his findings in a secret compartment within the outer wall of the theater, he allowed the dark cloak shielding him to dissipate.  
  
His true form was revealed - tall, wiry feline with ginger fur, clothed in a long coat that nearly reached his ankles, a velvet hat sitting atop his head. In this form, no one paid him any mind, and Macavity was free to watch the excited crowd pour out of the theater.  
  
A strange sensation pricked beneath his skin, his fur bristling.  
  
_Ronnie._  
  
His brother was here. And he was close.   
  
Macavity must have been so focused on his task and his powers that he failed to notice his presence earlier.  
  
"Oh, it's terrible, simply terrible!" A young queen fretted, Macavity glancing over and noticing the two calicos from earlier, each one frantically searching through their embroidered reticules. "I KNOW I brought it with me before I left the house!"  
  
"Is there anything I can do to assist you lovely ladies?" A deep voice inquired.  
  
And there he was.  
  
His brother, dressed in an elegant frock coat, a maroon vest with shining gold buttons visible beneath. His thick fur, while carefully groomed, seemed to refuse to be tamed beneath the confines of a hat.  
  
One of the calicos smiled shyly, completely smitten.  
  
"My pocket mirror was stolen...but that's of no concern to me," She explained. "My sister...her brush was stolen as well. It was a gift."  
  
Macavity watched the exchange, leaning against the nearby lamppost. Ronnie calmed the two queen's with sweet words, gently bringing one of their paws to his lips, then the other's. They parted ways, the queens completely captivated by him despite this being their first meeting.  
  
Looking directly at him, Ronnie approached. "...Hello, Mac."  
  
"Ronnie. It's been a while," Macavity greeted without much enthusiasm. "I see you still have no shame in toying with the hearts of queens."  
  
"Not toying," Ronnie corrected. "There's nothing wrong with admiring a beautiful lady, and telling her so." His expression soured. "And even if I were toying with them, petty thievery is a far greater offense. Wouldn't you agree?"  
  
"You're quick to assume."  
  
"Am I mistaken?"  
  
"You are." He met Ronnie's eyes, expecting scorn, and instead found something that enraged him so much more.  
  
"I don't need your pity, Deuteronomy," Macavity hissed, showing his teeth. "Least of all, from someone like you."  
  
"Our mother - "  
  
" - I don't care to hear about her regrets either - "  
  
" - Is dead," Ronnie finished, cutting off his rant. "She passed away about two weeks ago. She was very ill."  
  
Macavity sneered. "Good."  
  
Ronnie suddenly looked very weary. "You can't mean that."  
  
"I do." Macavity's gaze drifted to whatever Ronnie was clutching in his left paw. His brother held it up for him to see - a playing card, the ace of spades to be exact, with familiar signature in delicate, curling script.  
  
"An autograph from Mr. Mistoffelees," Ronnie told him. "He was kind enough to provide me with one."  
  
Macavity’s temper flared at the thought of his brother speaking with Mistoffelees, but Ronnie had already slipped the card into his pocket.  
  
"You could come live with me. We still have time left, to begin again." Ronnie offered softly. Macavity let out a mirthless laugh, which was enough of an answer. "Would you at least consider it?" He tried.  
  
"There's nothing to consider. You are both dead to me. But, at least one of you had the courtesy to actually follow through with that."  
  
A heavy silence.  
  
"Then...I'll ask you to kindly return the items you stole, Macavity," Ronnie finally said, stern as a father speaking to his kit, despite being the younger sibling.  
  
"You have no proof. Only baseless accusations," Macavity replied coolly.  
  
Behind his brother, he could see the elderly cat pleading with one of the wealthy theatergoers, the couple shaking their heads, apologetic.  
  
As Ronnie turned to follow Macavity's gaze, the ginger cat allowed the darkness to consume his form once more. By the time his brother faced him again, he had already vanished.  
  
The only trace of his departure was the lamppost's flame, which had mysteriously snuffed out.   
  
***  
  
They had gathered everything they could before boarding one of the locomotive's empty boxcars, already used to the rhythmic chugging and other harsh sounds emitted by the steam engine.  
  
Both cats had created their own little den in the corner, complete with soft blankets and enough food for their trip. It was far from luxurious, but Mistoffelees hadn't complained once despite the jarring difference from his childhood home.  
  
"It felt so good to perform like that." Mistoffelees stretched his arms over his head, eyes closed in contentment. "If I could do that for the rest of my life, I'd be satisfied."  
  
"Which is precisely what we're aiming towards," Macavity commented as he spread out the treasures on the floor, in a neat little row.  
  
"Did you watch any of it?"  
  
"Mm-hm."  
  
"And...?"  
  
"Eh. A little sloppy at times, but entertaining enough. ...For a younger audience, perhaps."  
  
Mistoffelees scoffed, Macavity concealing his smile.  
  
"Admit it...you couldn't look away from me," Challenged the magician.  
  
"I'll admit nothing. Be quiet and get some rest. You might not realize it yet, but you used a lot of your energy today. Push yourself too hard and you'll face the consequences."  
  
"...Killjoy."  
  
The tuxedo peeked over Macavity's shoulder, finally drawing the other's attention. His tail twitched behind him in eager anticipation. "So. Have you found anything interesting...?"  
  
"I have. People will pay us handsomely for these," Macavity explained, but the magician had drawn in a sharp breath.  
  
"That one there...do we have to sell it...?"  
  
He had a feeling he would protest in regards to that one. "I would hope so, since that one might be the most valuable."  
  
Mistoffelees reached out, plucking the small object and holding it delicately in his paws, silver eyes taking in all the little details...the engravings that resembled a beautiful starlit night, the little wind up key on the side.  
  
Without waiting for a comment from Macavity, Mistoffelees carefully wound it up, listening intently...  
  
...But nothing happened.  
  
The magician's ears drooped. "It's broken."  
  
Macavity sighed. "What a shame. It's useless then."  
  
"....I'd like to keep it anyway," Mistoffelees decided. "Some things aren't always as they seem, right? And besides...it still has its charm, despite being broken."  
  
Macavity shrugged. "Suit yourself."  
  
The locomotive toiled on, carrying its only two passengers farther and farther away. And while the bustling town was left behind and forgotten, its inhabitants still clung to the childlike wonder that magic had brought them at the Fletcher Theater that night.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his vacation in St. James Town coming to an end, Tugger decides to spend as much time with Misto as possible. The shadow of Misto's past catches up to them.

The rain slowed from a torrent, to a pitter-patter, and finally to nothing but droplets rolling off buildings into puddles on the ground.   
  
Patches of sunlight pierced the thick cover of clouds. Now that the storm had calmed, St. James Town's citizens began to leave the cover of their homes.  
  
...And no one was more relieved than the Rum Tum Tugger.  
  
Staying in this ritzy mansion was fun for a while, and, like any cat, he appreciated a cozy spot by a roaring fire.  
  
But now, his fur was dry, the day was young, and like the receding clouds parting for the sun's warmth, his damp spirits had lifted. He longed for a chance to stretch his legs, and, more importantly, to spend the rest of the day with his equally cute and attractive boyfriend.  
  
...Boyfriend. He liked the sound of that.  
  
Even though Misto hadn't made his interest in Tugger quite so obvious until recently, he had returned those feelings wholeheartedly.  
  
Tugger was on top of the world, and nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to bring him down again -  
  
"Oh my, today is your last day here, isn't it?" Bustopher said. "Time certainly does fly."  
  
...Ah.  
  
"Oh...right!" Tugger frowned, scratching the back of his head. "I guess it is!"  
  
It hadn't even been that long since he stopped by that old junk shop, and found that little music box that turned his life upside down in the best possible way.  
  
But now, Misto would be living with his new family. They could visit each other, of course, but it was such a long distance...  
  
Misto seemed to be thinking the same thing, because his tail was not nearly as perky and energetic as usual. Even while he wore that poker face, Tugger quickly learned the two things always betrayed the tuxedo's feelings - his magic, and his tail.  
  
"I promise, I'll write to you, every day," He told Tugger softly, much to the other's amusement.  
  
"'Write?'" Tugger laughed. "Nah, snail mail takes forever. I'll give you my number, and you can call me anytime you want, kitten."  
  
"Number? Number for what?" Misto tilted his head.  
  
"Eh? Oh, that's right. You probably haven't used a phone before, huh?"  
  
With Bustopher's permission, Tugger showed Misto the wonders of a modern phone, noticing Misto's tail perk back up and swish around in curiosity.  
  
"Let's give my dear big brother a call as a test run," Tugger said, showing Misto how to dial the number. "You just talk into the handset." He handed it to Misto, who held it upside down, listening carefully.  
  
"Hello? I don't hear anything." After seeing Tugger's motion, Misto quickly switched it right side up. "Hello?" He repeated.  
  
"Hello!" Tugger could hear a child's voice from the other side, "This is Jemima!"  
  
Tugger grinned from ear to ear. "Is that my adorable little niece?!" He asked, leaning in close.  
  
"Uncle Tugger!" A giggle from the other side. "I miss you soooo much!"  
  
"I miss you too! Say 'hi' to Misto!"  
  
"Hi, Misto!"  
  
After filling Jemima in on their adventures in St. James Town, they ended their test call, Tugger writing down his number on a piece of paper to give to Misto.  
  
A gasp from Jenny startled them all - mostly because of the urgency of it. "OH! I almost forgot!" She exclaimed. "Misto, I have something special for you, dear. Just finished it this morning!" She practically bounced in glee, hurrying from the room, Tugger and Misto exchanging glances.  
  
Upon returning she handed it over to Misto - the single item of clothing folded with military precision.  
  
"It's from the fabric you loved so much in my sewing room," Jenny explained, wringing her paws. "But please, if it's not your style, don't stay quiet to spare my feelings! There's plenty of time to make something that suits you even more!"   
  
Misto gently touched the fabric with one paw. "Jenny...thank you so much!"  
He wasted no time, heading over to the bathroom to try it on right away. When he came back out again, Tugger found himself speechless.  
  
The shirt was a deep, rich blue, dotted with a sparkling pattern. The sleeves were intentionally tight around Misto's wrists - but puffed out at the arms in a style that somehow suited him to a T. Jenny had also sewed on buttons from her own stash, which added a touch of elegance.  
  
"I love it!" Misto declared, turning in a circle, Tugger still gaping as the tuxedo cat gave Jenny a hug. "Thank you."  
  
Jenny was saying something else, but Tugger wasn't processing any of that right now.  
  
"Uh...Tugger? Are you alright?" Misto asked, bringing him back to reality.  
  
"...Hm? Oh! Sorry!"  
  
Tugger relaxed his stance, smoothing back his mane to keep his composure. "You look incredible. Irresistible, in fact. " He smirked.  
  
"Oh please." Misto dismissed him with a scoff.  
  
Tugger only grinned. He was starting to get how Misto worked by now. "You up for a stroll around town? I only got one day left in this city, and we've barely seen any of it!"  
  
He offered his paw, which Misto took. After saying goodbye to the Jones' and leaving the estate, they made their way back into St. James Town.  
  
One would think that being in a new relationship would be awkward, with neither of them knowing what to expect from the other. But Tugger was pleasantly surprised at how...easy this was.  
  
They found a music shop down the street that sold vintage records, Tugger admiring the rock-and-roll classics while Misto peeked around inquisitively at the musical instruments, despite not knowing how to play himself.  
  
They then stopped at a food cart for lunch, both leaving with a steaming hot corn dog, stepping around dirty puddles as they ate. Somehow, the conversation had shifted to who could last the longest without a kiss.  
  
"Let's be honest here, I would win. You wouldn't be able to help yourself," Tugger informed him.   
  
"And why not?"  
  
"I may have broken the ice with the first one, but after that it's always been you," He said. "You just can't get enough of me. I mean, can't say I blame you for that," Tugger added.  
  
"Deflate that head of yours. YOU'RE the one that can't keep his eyes off ME." Misto glanced at him through lidded eyes, Tugger's heart performing a backflip. "Do you think I'm naive enough not to notice?"  
  
"W-Well, it's hard NOT to notice something that sparkles all the time," Tugger countered, tossing the wooden corn dog stick in the nearby trash can. "You're just eye-catching, like fireworks. Or a meteor shower. Who could resist staring at that?"  
  
"So, what you're saying is, is that you would be able to last the longest without kissing me."  
  
Tugger had expected the magician to laugh and give in. Maybe even reward him with a kiss.  
  
But nope, he'd sparked some kind of competitive fire in Misto, hadn't he. The magician's eyes glinted.  
  
Oh no.  
  
Tugger threw his paws up. "Hey, now, I was only messing with you! See? You win." In one smooth motion, he gathered Misto into his arms, leaning in...  
  
...And was stopped by a single claw gently pressed against his lips.  
  
"I never turn down a wager, Rum Tum Tugger." Misto said, the two almost nose to nose. "Never."  
  
He then gracefully removed himself from the bewildered Maine coon's embrace, a bounce in his step as he walked alongside him.  
  
Tugger swallowed, defeated.  
  
Misto had turned it around on him, leaving him once again, without a single comeback or witty retort. Poor Tugger spent the next ten minutes dying to kiss him, while the magician seemed to delight in torturing him.  
  
...Alright, fine. If he wanted to play that game, he could play. If he stayed casual and nonchalant, Misto would eventually break first.  
  
He put the strut back in his walk, before realizing that Misto was no longer following him. Instead, the magician's attention had shifted elsewhere, staring up at an old building that had fallen into disrepair.  
  
"You okay?" Tugger asked, following his gaze.  
  
Misto nodded slowly. "This theater...my parents used to take me here to watch plays when I was a kit.”  
  
They had wandered away from the center of town, where there weren't as many people hanging around the non-touristy areas.

"Wanna take a look inside?" Tugger asked, eager.  
  
"I think the sign on the door speaks for itself."  
  
Sure enough, a dingy "NO TRESPASSING" sign in big red letters had been slapped onto the front entrance.   
  
"That IS a problem, isn't it." Tugger looked left, then right...  
  
...And promptly peeled it off, dramatically letting the sign drop to the ground. "Oh no! They seemed to have forgotten to put up a sign telling me I'm not supposed to enter. Well, no fault of ours!"

He winked and beckoned Misto to follow him, satisfied when he heard the other stifle a laugh.  
  
The musty smell was the first thing Tugger noticed as they entered the dilapidated theater.

Water dripped down from the leaky ceiling and onto the filthy seats - most of the seats intact, others broken and impossible to sit on. Each row sloped upward and away from the stage, with boxes on either side for wealthy theatergoers looking for a private space.  
  
Misto ran his paw along the top of the seats as they passed, stirring up a cloud of dust. "This is definitely the theater from my kittenhood...but...even in this condition, it looks so different from what I remember."  
  
"They probably restored it years later, that's why it looks different," Tugger guessed, looking around. "They ought to fix it back up again."  
  
A fond smile came to Misto's face as he reminisced.

"You know, all those family outings here...I think that's what made me want to become a magician in the first place," He explained, as if he were talking to himself rather than Tugger.

“It wasn't enough to just have magic. I wanted to be in front of an audience. To make them smile....excite them, hold them spellbound."  
  
Tugger blinked as Misto made his way to the front, easily hoisting himself up onto the stage.  
  
It was too good an opportunity to pass up, Tugger cupping his mouth.  
  
"Ladies, and gentlemen!" He announced as if through a microphone, "You are in for a treat tonight! Our first act, and by far the best, is the marvelous...the mystical..."  
  
Misto laughed, bending down into an extravagant bow.  
  
"...Mistoffelees!" Tugger finished, cheering at the top of his lungs, clapping. "Woo!"  
  
Straightening up again, Misto spread his arms wide, a golden aura surrounding his small body.  
  
For just the briefest moment, Tugger could see it in his mind's eye - the theater coming to life with thunderous applause, a full house...and Misto in the center of it all, the stage lights catching the sparkles of his clothing, reflecting a rainbow of colors.  
  
And just like that, it was gone. The theater was empty once more, occupied only by them and the ghosts of a time long past.  
  
Tugger leaned forward against the stage, resting his arms on the faded wooden surface. "You know," He began earnestly, Misto turning towards him.  
"People would still love to see you on stage. Starting a new life doesn't mean you have to give up on who you are."  
  
Letting the magician contemplate that on his own, Tugger flashed him a smile. "...Think that there's still some goodies down in the dressing rooms?"  
  
Misto shrugged. "If it's like the rest of this place, there's not much left. But it's worth a look." He began to follow, but Tugger stopped him.  
  
"You wait here, I'll see if I can surprise you with something cool."  
  
Fondly, Misto rolled his eyes. "Don't hurt yourself down there."  
  
"Aww, you're too cute when you're worried about me. I'll be just fine," Tugger assured him. "Ten minutes, tops. If I'm not back by then, you're free to come valiantly to my rescue."  
  
"No, I'll just assume that you caught a glimpse of your own reflection in the mirror, and needed a moment alone."  
  
Tugger turned, deliberately swinging his hips to taunt Misto as he left.   
  
After he had found the door that led below stage (and took a good minute and a half prying it open when it was stuck), Tugger descended the stairs in search of the dressing rooms. But it wasn't long until he was regretting this decision.  
  
His fur was already mopping up dust, dirt, and other unmentionables from the tight space, spiders dangling from the ceiling above his head.

Ugh.  
  
A nice hot bath was sorely needed after all this.  
  
But, when he got to the bottom of the stairs, he found what he was looking for. Dressing room vanities, side by side, the light bulbs surrounding each mirror cloudy and cracked with age.

The closet doors creaked on rusty hinges as he opened them, checking inside each one.  
  
...Empty, empty, empty.

Pouting, Tugger turned to leave, but a large metal chest in the corner caught his eye. "Aha!"  
  
He wasted no time in opening the chest, pulling out a couple masks, the faces twisted in grotesque expressions that resembled neither Pollicle nor Jellicle. "Heh, these will probably just scare him," Tugger thought aloud. "I don't want him angry at me, either."  
  
Shrugging, he held one of the masks up to his face, staring out through the tiny eye holes, scanning the room.   
  
A dark shape passed in front of him.  
  
Tugger immediately let the mask drop, frantically looking around.  
  
But whatever it was, it was gone.  
  
The Maine coon let out an uneasy laugh. "Alright, you got me. Very funny, Misto. ...Misto?"  
  
Silence.  
  
His heart was now drumming in his chest. But he stubbornly ignored it. 'Pull yourself together, Tugger. You're just letting this creepy place play tricks on you,' He told himself, opening one of the vanity drawers and rummaging around inside...before freezing.  
  
There was something behind him.  
  
It hadn't made sound, and yet he could feel eyes on his back.  
  
Lifting his head ever so slightly, Tugger looked past his own reflection, at the silhouette blocking the exit. As he whirled around to face it, two glowing green eyes met his own.  
  
His mind went blank.  
  
A comforting fog enveloped him.  
  
Something at the back of his brain screamed for help. But, he no longer cared to listen, and resisting only made him more lethargic.  
  
So instead, he simply allowed himself to float along, relishing in a sensation not unlike sinking into a soft mattress after a stressful day.  
  
**...Leave him.**  
  
_...What?_  
  
**Mistoffelees. You are not worthy of someone like him. You don't understand him, not the way I do.**  
  
_Wait...who are you...?_  
  
**That's none of your concern. You have someone else, don't you? Someone you care about, dearly. And she loves you in return.**  
  
An image of Bomba materialized before him. She was gorgeous, sexy, and had a smile that could melt any tom's heart.  
  
_...I do care about her._  
  
**Good. Then you must tell her so, and end this game. It's easier this way. For everyone.**  
  
It was easier, wasn't it?  
  
Bombalurina watched him, full lips forming a sad smile. She reached out, one paw outstretched.  
  
He lifted his own paw, about to take it...  
  
And hesitated, letting it hover above hers.  
  
_What if..._  
  
_What if...I don't want 'easy'?_  
  
**What?**  
  
_What if...I'm not interested in taking the 'easy' way out? Yeah, we looked good together. We looked REALLY damn good together. And...I'll always love her._  
  
Bombalurina lowered her arm, her smile fading.  
  
_...But we're not right for each other._  
  
**Hah...! You know nothing about him, and yet you think you're right for him? That's asinine.**  
  
_I don't care. Even if this goes nowhere...even if I'm making a mistake...I won't miss out on what could be the best thing that's ever happened to me.  
_

_And right now, there's only one thing I want._  
  
**No...**  
  
_...Get out of my head...!_  
  
**NO!**  
  
_NOW!_  
  
Everything snapped back into place.  
  
Nauseous and disoriented, Tugger stumbled backward, his back slamming against the front of the vanity. He grappled for it and held on for balance, chest heaving.  
  
In front of him, his assailant was crouched down, clutching at his face, a low growl rumbling in his throat.  
  
When he removed his paws, Tugger could see the bloody claw marks that had raked down, tearing through the fur.  
  
Numb, Tugger looked down, seeing the red dripping from his own claws. He didn't even remember using them.  
His attacker lunged and swiped at him, narrowly missing the Maine coon's head as Tugger dodged to the side.  
  
_Shit shit shit shit - !_

Avoiding looking into those eyes at all costs, Tugger scrambled to his feet and gripped the side of the vanity, flinging it forward with every ounce of strength in his body.  
  
Glass shattered as it fell, scattering across the floor. Now on all fours, his attacker simply bounded over it, tackling Tugger to the floor. Both were locked together in a violent frenzy of teeth and claws, Tugger struggling to defend himself.  
  
"TUGGER!"  
  
_Misto!_  
  
"Stay back - !" Tugger warned, the distraction costing him when he was violently flung against the wall.

Pain exploded through his shoulder, and he lay where he fell.  
  
As he tensed, bracing himself for another attack, Tugger's fur stood on end, a strange crackling filling the air.  
  
There was a brilliant flash of light, followed by a sharp CRACK.  
  
Momentarily blinded, Tugger lifted his head, blinking through the dots in his vision as the odor of scorched fur filled his nostrils.  
  
A few feet away, the stranger staggered and dropped to his knees.  
An agonized groan escaped him, body wracked with tremors.  
  
Misto was standing in the doorway, his eyes cold steel, his fur bristled as if made of millions of tiny needles. Sparks still flickered around his small form, the remnants of his terrifying display of magical power.  
  
...There was only one thought on Tugger's mind. He had to protect him. He had to get up.  
  
But below him, the floor let out a terrible groan of its own. Already unstable from age, the lightning bolt had been more than enough to cause it to collapse.  
  
As everything crumbled beneath him, the last thing Tugger heard was Misto screaming his name, before he was plunged into darkness and knew no more.  
  
***  
  
"..."  
  
_"...Hello?"_  
  
_"Munkustrap...!"_  
  
_"Dem! How're you - "_  
  
_"Munk...! It's Tugger...he's..."_  
  
_"Oh boy. What did he do now."_  
  
_"No...you don't understand. They rushed him to the hospital. He was attacked."_  
  
_"Wh...What? What do you mean, 'attacked'? What happened? How bad is it?!"_  
  
_"I don't have all the details yet. But...it's pretty bad."_  
  
_"...O-Okay. Okay. I'm on my way. I'll see you soon. Bye, Dem."_  
  
_"Bye."_


End file.
